


Vampires Will Never Hurt You... Ok, Unless They're Blood-Deprived and a Tad Thirsty

by Wolfy_P_Smith



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bad references, Blood, Daddy Issues, Frank POV, Humor, M/M, Punk Frank Iero, Sketchy Apartment Buildings, Vampire Gerard Way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:02:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfy_P_Smith/pseuds/Wolfy_P_Smith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He was going to continue on until he saw a figure appear behind Mikey.  From the small amount of light, he could see that it was a guy, probably about his age, with long black hair, pale skin, and dark apparel.  Oh, and might he add, blood smeared on almost every inch of his face and neck, yet no visible wounds.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No. Fucking.  Way,” whispered Frank.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Gerard Way, actually,” the dark figure offered, smiling a shy grin that exposed two very sharp, bloody teeth- fangs, he presumed.</i>
</p><p><i>Frank was all for believing in the supernatural and crap, but this… </i>this<i>… was not real.</i></p><p>Or:  Frank is a smartass, Gerard is a manipulative vampire, and then there's just Mikey in the background, helplessly watching the two grow closer and closer.  Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing—  well, it's probably just a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Behind the Eight Ball

The day couldn’t have gone better.

For Frank Iero, a perfect day consisted of three key factors: getting laid, winning the lottery, and reading a hella good book way past decent times of night. All in that order, of course.

Laid, lottery, book. Perfection.

The summer before his senior year of high school, he had his own little serving of the three, complete with bleakness on the side and a heaping glass of desolation he could drink in four, count ‘em, four gulps.

The story of his oh-so-perfect day started in the kitchen of his summer job… at McDonalds. It was hard enough working at the grease-inflicted, flesh-frying fast food joint as a strong, loyal vegetarian, but hey- you took money where you got it, whether that be as a cook or working the street corners late at night. The point was, Frank had nothing to complain about. That was also where the first ingredient came from- getting laid. Rather… laid off. His boss had said, to quote word-for-word, “It’s fucking creepy as hell to the male customers to be stalked by you through the gaps in the kitchen.” Whatever. Frank had better things to do than flip patties and fry shit. Plus, there were plenty of places in his Californian city to gaze at hot guys in sweaty clothes. Though his job seemed to pick up ample amounts at lunchtime.

Laid? Check.

Next to be expected was the lottery winning. Frank had held the scratch-off his mother bought him (to compensate for being fired) close to his heart, praying rapidly that he’d win the jackpot of fifty-some hundred dollars. He knew already what the money would go towards- paying the house off for his mom, a nice one-way ticket to anywhere out of the country, and quite possibly a male stripper to entertain him on those lonely nights. He took his lucky 1954 pure copper penny in one hand and the scratch-off in the other, knowing that he was gonna win, by God, he was. And he did… win a dollar. A measly little dollar. Not even enough to buy another ticket of the same brand. But a dollar, nonetheless.

Lottery? Er, check.

Finally came the good book. Prior to getting to this, though, Frank was called into the dining room before bed to have a “family-biz discussion” with his mother, despite him groaning about “biz” coming out of his mom’s mouth. There should be a law restricting the adult language to _only_ big, fancy words. Leave the stupid jargon for the kids of the world. No matter, though. Frank listened to his mother and had firmly sat his ass on one of the hard chairs scattered around the kitchen table. He assumed his mother was going to lecture him now on how he could never hold a job and how he was a pathetic excuse of a son. Not that those words ever escaped from her mouth- but they should have! He sure as hell deserved them.

However, if his guesses as to what she was going to “discuss” was a target, the bull’s-eye being the correct answer, well he couldn’t be more wrong. He’d probably not even hit within the range.

“Frankie.” Shit. She always called him that when smothering on some deep as fuck info. “I have some news myself regarding certain… important aspects of my life that will affect me greatly as well as you.” Shit, shit, _shit._ “I- I’ve been demoted from my position at my job.”

Well… shit.

“What?” Frank had queried with desperation coating his face thickly. “Who the fuck would do that- you’re the best damn thing that’s happened to your work. Oh God, it was that ugly-ass boss of yours, Patty, wasn’t it?”

“Language, Frankie.” But she was already in tears when saying this, giving the clearest cue Frank could imagine to hug his mother closely.

Apparently, with the demotion came a significantly less amount of money, resulting in his mother’s decision to send him across the country to live with his father (whom, might he mention, he hadn’t seen in eight years) in Jersey. Which, to put it simply, sucked balls. He was a total mama’s boy, and he didn’t want to leave his mother stranded in California alone for Lord only knows how long.

The worst part was that he was to depart the following day.

So that night he proceeded to stay up until ass-clock in the morning reading _Harry Potter_ and admittedly bawling his eyes out. He wasn’t even strong enough to call them manly tears. Real men submitted to their feelings and accepted that manly tears ceased to exist. Not that they ever existed before.

Book? Fucking check.

It was on that night that Frank came to the conclusion that he had the worst streak of luck in the history of the entire existence of living creatures.

 

***

 

The plane ride to New Jersey was tedious and lonely. He couldn’t read too well on moving objects, so that scratched out pretty much the only thing on his List of What to Do on a Boring as Hell Plane Trip. He settled for fiddling idly with his thumbs and staring at (not stalking) this semi-attractive goth boy in the seat across from his. When the man caught him looking (not stalking), revealing an unsightly array of freckles and smudged-on guyliner, Frank made his best effort not to gag right then and there. At least he had the civility to wait for the man to turn away.

By the time he reached the Jersey airport, he was jetlagged and quite honestly wanted to curl up on his couch in California. But instead, he found his luggage and made his way to a taxi that was supposed to be waiting outside of the airport.

He came across a driver holding an Iero sign, but that couldn’t be his ride because _holy shit, it’s a fucking limousine._ There was no way his father could afford a limo yet still not be able to pay proper child support.

Yet he walked up to the man anyway.

“Uh, Frank?” he offered tentatively. “Frank Iero?”

“Ah! Ze monsieur Iero!” the driver cheered loudly in some sort of European accent. “Mon plaisir est tout votre!”

Frank rolled his eyes, manners never really crossing his mind. “Dude, we’re in America. Speak English. Not Dutch or whatever the hell that is.”

The driver only spat out a hearty laugh because apparently in Dutch-speaking places being rude was hilarious. “You is quite ze charm, monsieur. I is from ze France. Come, come.” He motions towards the limo.

“Dad can’t give a single dime to us yet he adulates me with a huge vehicle with a freaky Dutch- er, French servant dude. I’m flattered.” Frank placed a hand over his chest and batted his eyelashes.

The inside of the limo wasn’t all that impressive, especially all alone. Frank had always been sort of an introvert, but he felt that limo’s weren’t made for one person trips. He ignored the scenery outside of the vehicle and instead called his mom and talked to her for hours until the limo pulled up to a dinky apartment complex that contrasted the limousine in every way possible. “There we go,” Frank mumbled. “ _This_ is more like where my father would live.”

He said goodbye to his mother on the phone and climbed out of the limo, taking his bags along with him. He didn’t own much of anything, so the load wasn’t too unbearable.

As soon as Frank had gathered all of his stuff, however, he realized he had no earthly idea what his father’s room number was nor did he even have the man’s phone number. He pivoted around on one foot to ask the limo driver, but the man was already driving off. “Asshole,” he cursed under his breath.

It was already dark out and a little too warm for his personal likings. He hobbled into the lobby of the complex to see if he could get some information, all while trying to balance his shit properly. Finally making it to the musty, fluorescent lobby, he decided he gave not a single shit about common courtesy and let all of his stuff collapse on the ground and the nearby people. Well, what the hell were they doing in an apartment lobby at nine at night, anyway? They had it coming.

“Excuse me?” he said to a man reading a magazine at a receptionist’s desk. He was all too aware of the dozen eyes watching him closely, but chose to ignore the self-conscious feeling creeping up his spine and threatening to burst all over the floors like an exploding watermelon or something.

The man refused to meet his eyes or even pay him any mind, so he pounded on the desk with a jolt of menace and a demand for authority. But the man didn’t even flinch, just looked lazily up at Frank without a care in the world.

He didn’t say anything, so Frank spoke inflexibly, “What room number is the Iero residence?”

The man’s eyes moved over to a computer monitor that arrived straight from the nineties and drearily spoke in a monotone voice, “Room 23B.”

“Well where the fuck is that?” Frank honestly couldn’t help the frustration rising from his insides.

“Second basement.”

“Second basement?” he uttered in disbelief. He’d be spending his senior year living in a basement below another basement. He grumbled his thoughts audibly and began the process of picking up his two-thousand bags that seemed an awful lot more heavy all of a sudden. He struggled to gather things in a manner that enabled carrying but just couldn’t seem to get a proper grip on everything.

“Need a hand?”

Frank searched for the source of the voice, his eyes finally taking in a tall, lanky figure with messy blond hair and wide-framed glasses. The guy seemed about his age and was sort of attractive but definitely not Frank’s type.

“I live in the room next to yours, so I could help carry some of that…” he continued, a little less sure of himself than before.

Frank, being the indecorous teenage boy who he couldn’t help but to be, threw down all of his stuff and held his arms out wide. “Have at it!” He smiled encouragingly.

The other kid sort of glared at him before saying bluntly, “You’re short,” and picking up most of his stuff with ease.

Frank fought back in his ominous anger. It’s not like the kid was the first to point that out.

As they walked single-file down a narrow stairwell, the guy made a futile attempt at conversation. “I’m Mikey Way, what’s your name?”

“Frank.”

“As in Frank Iero? Yeah I heard you were moving in. Your dad’s a douche sometimes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I live with my mom and she thinks your dad is good looking.”

“That’s disturbing.”

The kid- Mikey- laughed. “Right! Old people love. Disgusting. I have a bro— _used_ to have a brother. He was my best friend.”

“Cool.”

“He’s dead now.”

How the fuck was he supposed to respond to _that_ piece of information. “I’m sorry?” That seemed like the right thing to say.

“It’s okay. It happened last year, so most people don’t really like to talk about it.”

“Do you normally tell strangers about your deceased family members?” said Frank with a roll of his eyes.

Mikey halted for a moment, causing Frank to collide with him, and looked over his shoulder. “We’re not strangers. I know your name.”

“Right.”

Mikey continued to ramble endlessly about his brother and unicorns and everything else under the sun until they finally arrived at room 23B.

“Well,” Mikey announced. “Looks like this is your stop. I’ll see you around?”

 _Not if I can help it_ , he thought. But Frank wasn’t that cruel. “Sure. See you around.”

The kid walked literally two yards over to his own room. He opened the door without needing to unlock it and shut himself in. As Frank listened to several locks being sealed from inside, he thought how dark it was from where he could see.

Glancing around before opening the door of his own new apartment rooms, he noticed how dark _everything_ was, and not just for being a second basement. Sure, the lack of windows contributed to the overall blackness of the area, but the lights were all dim and the halls tapered, somehow adding to the claustrophobic feeling of the whole place.

He really, _really_ did not want to be living here his senior year.

He didn’t realize that he had knocked on the door, and perhaps he didn’t, but nonetheless he could hear a few chains and padlocks being undone and all he could think was _what the fuck is wrong with these people- so many locks._ The jangling finally stopped and the door came slightly ajar, blinding light searing through the small gap.

“Frank? Is that you?” said a small, deep voice from the other end. A wide, green eye peeped through the crack of the door.

“No, it’s your other son you don’t pay child support for.” Frank yet again rolled his eyes, honestly fed up with people in general. _This is why I prefer books,_ he thought forlornly. _People in books are just better._

The man chuckled softly and opened the door completely, revealing a short, skinny figure with long, dark dreads and a pedo-stache. Frank realized with trivial dismay that this man was where he got his hefty lack of height from.

“Shit- you’re my dad?” he asked in utter disbelief. It had been almost a decade since seeing the guy, and he definitely did _not_ have the Chester the Molester look going on then.

“Shit- you’re my son?” The man laughed at his own mockery. “Since when did you get into the emo crowd?”

Frank pursed his lips and scoffed, “I’m not emo.”

“Says the guy with the lip and nose ring clad in all black.”

Frank infamously did his stupid eye roll and groaned, “Can I come in now?”

“Of course!” the man beamed. “But first you have to give me a hug.”

The good thing about having bad genes that rendered both the men’s height was that Frank could push around the guy with ease. He used his bags to his advantage and practically bulldozed the older man like a naked Miley Cyrus. It hit him as he stomped his way down a hallway that he had no idea where to go and that the complex was a lot bigger than what met the eye from the outside. Humiliated, he turned around and asked where to put his stuff.

“Well, you have three rooms to choose from,” his father spoke. “One- the guest bedroom. Two- the other guest bedroom. Or third is my unused studio that extends onto the first basement.

How big was the place, honestly? While keeping its beaten down look throughout, the rooms actually had a spacious feel to them, plus this studio supposedly was two floors high. Frank knew the man didn’t even have to ask- obviously that was going to be his choice.

The studio… was massive. The walls were made of reddish-brown bricks, arranged in an odd circular shape that gave the room even more space. Like promised, there was a wrap-around staircase extending up to a small loft area adorned with one window (not that that was a sort of deal breaker or anything- Frank enjoyed the dark, but it seemed rare and special to have a window). He could see himself getting very jaded in the immensity of the room but at the same time, it was kind of awesome. The one downside was that the brick walls seemed to trap in cold, and Jersey was known to have some chilly weather during the winter. He’d worry about it then, he supposed.

After getting settled, he opted to make himself at home by pulling out a TV dinner of mac n cheese and blaring his music on speaker throughout the house. Every time his father attempted to make conversation or show even the slightest hint of interest, Frank would scream the lyrics to his songs as loudly as he could. It’d do best to evade and vex his father from the beginning as to ward off any potential bonding. No way in hell would he show any affection towards the man who left his struggling wife and child at such a young age.

The next day, Mikey came over and invited himself in, babbling limitlessly, somehow leading every discussion back to his dead brother, Gerard. Frank found the comfort of which the guy spoke of Gerard disconcerting and slightly (read- extremely) off, but he didn’t say anything about it. In fact, he didn’t say much at all, just listened to the guy rant about this and that. He couldn’t say he completely despised the kid, though. It was sort of nice to make a new friend in this strange place.

He learned that Mikey was a year younger than him and Gerard would have been a year older. Supposedly, Gerard had gone out one night but never returned home. They found the body a half a week later, the blood drained completely from it and only two large gashes in the neck. It seemed an awful way to go out, in Frank’s opinion. Bleeding to death from the neck just didn’t hit his top ten ways he wanted to die. It ranked even below being mauled alive by spiders. If it was, indeed, possible to be mauled alive by spiders.

Over the next couple of weeks, Frank spent a lot of time with Mikey, even going out to meet some of his friends a couple times. As the two grew closer, the relationship became less reliant on Mikey’s jabbering and more about Frank making an effort towards conversations. Mikey never really asked to come into his home, which was fine, but the one time Frank tried to return the gesture and walk into the nearly pitch black rooms of his house, Mikey flipped out and locked them both out. It was peculiar- maybe Mikey had an embarrassing mother- but no, he had met her before and there was nothing strange about her. A messy house? Possibly, but then Frank’s was too. Frank had the feeling the Ways were hiding something dark and mysterious, something deep and dangerous.

And, if he was being real with himself, he’d go so far as to say he didn’t really want to find out what, exactly, it was they were hiding.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t really given the choice on whether to find out or not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All band members' looks inspired vaguely by the apparel from "Desolation Row" if you're looking for a better mental image. Because let's be honest with ourselves here: they all look pretty fucking hot in that video.
> 
> Thank you times a billion for reading!


	2. Don't Need a Penny for Your Thoughts

Frank woke up on Saturday morning (which in reality was midafternoon- what? He had reached the climax of his book!) to the smell of something _awful_. It was a rich mix of rotten fruits, pungent decay, and something else he couldn’t quite place. Snapping his fingers, he came to the conclusion that it smelled exactly like the carcass of a twice ran-over mule deer that had been roasting in the sun for, say, a couple months. He had to plug his nose in desperate search for a can of Lysol, even though the stuff gave him a massive headache. Anything was better than the suffocating aroma of death itself.

Spraying literally every inch of his house did not help. If anything, it amplified the rotting scent as if it was in a Who Can Smell the Strongest contest with the air freshener. Now, there was just an appalling mingle of good smells and bad ones. Eh. He had given it his best.

He decided at that moment that it’d serve him best to get out of the damned apartment complex. Not having a car or any sense of direction in the New Jersey suburb he was now living in, he walked the few yards to Mikey’s and knocked heavily on the door. He noticed that as he got closer and closer to Mikey’s room, the smell got stronger, so bad that he covered his entire face with the hem of his shirt, not caring that he was indecently showing off his stomach to an old lady at the far end of the hall. He bet she liked what she saw, anyway.

There was no stirring from the other side of the door which he thought was odd. Mikey was always quick to answer the door. So he pounded again. And again. Nothing.

Looking both ways in check for unwanted speculators (he hoped that hag couldn’t see all the way down here), he cautiously checked the door handle to see if it was unlocked. To his astonishment, it was. Which was double bizarre. The Ways always had, like, two billion locks in place at a time. But he didn’t really care; he slowly pushed the door open, curiosity eating at him like he was the one decaying and maggots were crawling over his skin.

He knew it was wrong to trespass, especially when it was made so clear that he wasn’t allowed in, but he forthrightly gave exactly zero shits on what was considered “wrong” and “right” at this point. His nostrils were dying and the increasingly robust smell was beckoning him to eliminate it at once. He was doing it for a good reason.

The entryway, as expected from the Ways, was pitch black save for a small green dot from a smoke-detector. It was freezing- colder than he thought possible for being indoors, which made him uneasy. He quickly yet softly shut the door behind him and pulled out his phone, turning on some flashlight app he never found use for until now. It was bright and showed that the Way’s rooms, like his own apartment, were vast but warn down. Yet, unlike his own place, the Way’s floors were spotless, like no one even lived there. He noticed not one thing seemed out of place, and even the kitchen was arranged in an orderly fashion.

“Mikey?” he whisper-yelled, admittedly a tad (read- a ton) freaked out. _There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s not like they’re hiding bodies or something_.

He followed his nose, going deeper and deeper into the seamless rooms, passing door after shut door. The place almost felt bigger than what he and his father had.

Frank jumped a mile high when he heard a loud… _something_ sound. It was almost as if somebody— or something, rather— was sucking on a bendy straw unnecessarily hard. Whatever the noise, it was the only signal Frank needed to high-tail his way out of there.

Just as he was about to turn around, however, the slurping stopped, which only added to the strong urge to take flight. He turned on his heel and was about to take off running but— _shit_ , his phone dropped. The stupid thing was old and damaged, so of course the back popped off and of course the battery clicked out and of course he was left frantically searching the floor, all blind in the new dark.

But it must have done more than popped the battery out- how about _shattered the whole screen_ \- he could feel the crushed screen perfectly when his fingers finally met its surface. He knew it would do no good to try and fix it now, but he also needed to clean up any evidence of him being here. He shoved the broken thing in his pocket and got to his feet to continue his sweet escape but now… he was completely uncoordinated.

He did a three-sixty, trying to get a feeling as to which way to go, but that did a whole lot of not helping; it only further confused him. But the smoke detector light! Surely he could look up at that! He searched the ceiling for the green dot and found it!... along with several others. Damn rooms for being so cautious of accidental house-fires.

It crossed his mind vaguely that he should’ve been smart enough from the beginning to, oh, search for a light switch? But then again, he hadn’t seen any ceiling lights, only a couple small lamps, some of which had been missing lightbulbs.

He came to the decision that his best option was to move in one direction and hope he made it to some exit. So he pushed his way forward with his hands held before him like some sort of sightless mummy, all while gagging on the toxic death odor still very powerfully lingering in the air. He kept going forward and forward until his hand stabbed into something sharp and split it seemingly in half.

“Holy fuck!” he cried louder than what he meant to, groping his left palm in the dark and feeling warm blood ooze from a large gash. It hurt like hell, but he needed to leave, now.

Suddenly, though, he saw a small light flicker on and he found that he was in the back of the kitchen. He was about to turn around, but stopped himself when he spotted a flesh colored lump of pale, lifeless figures before him. Starch-naked human bodies, smeared blood coating the hard surfaces of their skin. He let out a macabre scream, one that would make five-year-old girls jealous, and backed up towards the now semi-visible exit.

But before he could move another muscle, he heard a large bang, followed by a dizzying pound in his head, and he was falling into the bliss of darkness.

 

***

 

His eyes fluttered open and he looked around, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. It was dark, and he was tucked in somewhere warm. He was in his bed in California, and his head and hand hurt, and he wanted someone to hug him.

“Mommy?” he whispered, his voice coming out cracked and raspy.

He blearily saw a figure turn to look at him. “Mommy? Fuck no. It’s Mikey.”

Confusion swished across his brain. Mikey? Why was he waking up to Mikey?

“What hapnd?” he tried to ask, but it came out slurred and unpronounced, as if he were some drunken sailor.

Mikey came closer now, face lit by a small lamp that reflected off his glasses. His face held an expression that read _you’re in deep trouble, mister._ “You tell me.”

Shit. He had been intruding; he remembered it clear as day by now. Still, he would play the victim to the best of his ability.

“You… you have sharp, pointy objects lying around in your house!” Frank nearly shouted pathetically. His voice was all high-pitched and squeamish, which should humiliate him, but his brain was far too muddled at this point to feel any sort of mortification. “That’s dangerous and, like, violating hospitality laws. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Mikey laughed bluntly in his face, but the humor didn’t even reach his eyes. “You’re so stupid, Frank! I didn’t even invite you in. _That’s_ violating actual existing laws and quite frankly I could sue your ass.” Frank conspicuously gulped. Mikey sighed. “But I’m not gonna, because you’re my friend and I know you were just snooping because you’re probably wondering what the hell that smell is, which now you’re going to force me to explain, which I will give into because it’s so frustrating to keep in the secret for so long.”

Frank’s ears perked. “Secret?”

But Mikey didn’t need to answer, because all the memories of before came flooding back- the slurping noise, the _bodies._

“Oh my God- you are a mass murderer!” Frank shrieked, shriveling up into himself. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my—”

“Shut up, Frank!” Mikey shushed him urgently, looking around as if to check for unwanted listeners. Obviously he was distressed, but Frank hardly cared. “Someone might hear you and get the wrong idea—”

“Wrong idea?” Frank repeated in bewilderment. “I’m pretty sure there is no wrong idea. MURDERER!” he proceeded to blare from his throat as loud as he could. “REDRUM! Oh my God! Murderer on the streets!”

He was going to continue on until he saw a figure appear behind Mikey. From the small amount of light, he could see that it was a guy, probably about his age, with long black hair, pale skin, and dark apparel. Oh, and might he add, blood smeared on almost every inch of his face and neck, yet no visible wounds.

“No. Fucking. Way,” whispered Frank.

“Gerard Way, actually,” the dark figure offered, smiling a shy grin that exposed two very sharp, bloody teeth- fangs, he presumed.

Frank was all for believing in the supernatural and crap, but this… _this…_ was not real.

“Now, before you go crazy and make assumptions—” Mikey tried to get out while holding his hands up to Frank.

This Gerard guy (who was supposed to be dead) was the one to interrupt. “He’s not going to listen to you at this point, Mikes.”

“You know what, Gerard?” Mikey said, his voice and face visibly strained. “I really don’t need your shit right now. Go to your room.” His eyes shifted back and forth, obviously lacking the authority he was seeking. “Now,” he added with a slight stomp of his foot. It looked silly.

“Gosh, Mom!” Gerard replied, crossing his arms. “You can’t tell me what to do anymore- I’m a free spirit!”

Mikey rolled his eyes- the first time he’d ever shown that gesture in front of Frank.

“I thought you were dead!” Frank screeched inanely before the bickering could go on. He wanted answers before he called the cops on these fuckers. Trespasser or not, he was determined to put the murderers where they belonged- in orange jumpsuits behind thick iron bars.

Gerard again looked over at Frank sort of coyly, taking a step back which engulfed more of his body in the shadows. “I am?” he suggested after a short time.

“B-but you’re standing here, all life-ish and stuff, breathing and doing human things and there’s no way in hell that you’re dead, nope.” Frank struggled with his words. He was never one for frivolously conversing but when it came to serious stuff, he couldn’t even get out a sentence that made sense.

Mikey again sighed. “Seriously, G, this would be so much easier if you were in the other room or something. The blood is slightly intimidating.”

Slightly? _Slightly_? There were a lot of words Frank would use to describe the level of intimidation the blood splotched on Gerard’s face brought, but slightly? Definitely not one of them. Try tremendously or disturbingly, but not slightly.

“He doesn’t want me to leave,” Gerard stated in a very matter-of-fact sort of manner.

“Bull shit!” Frank cried out, but he found that Gerard’s words had an edge of truth to them. He wanted answers, and this creepy ass blood drinker(?) seemed to be his best bet at getting them.

“He doesn’t,” Gerard repeated simply.

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with.” Mikey exhaled again, running a palm over his face, smearing blood onto his cheeks and nose. Pleasant. “Frank, do you believe in vampires?”

Frank let out a ludicrous laugh. He suspected as much, but it sounded ridiculous coming out of Mikey’s mouth. Once he had composed himself enough to speak, he looked into Mikey’s eyes through the lenses and said, “Sure, and flying pigs and leprechauns that shit fucking rainbows, man. Yeah, all of that.”

“Seriously, Frank, you gotta believe me,” begged the younger boy. “Gerard died a year ago. Only his death wasn’t as discreet and simple as the investigators made it out to be. It wasn’t a simple UnSub who killed for the pleasure of draining blood- it was a thirsty vampire who left some sort of poison in Gerard to turn him into the undead. It’s a curse, sure, but we treat it as a blessing as much as we can. Please, Frank, don’t think us crazy. We only kill because we have to, and even then the death is quick and painless. Gerard is… mostly a good guy,” he earned an offended “Hey!” from Gerard, “and he only does what he’s forced to do to survive.”

Frank, if he was being honest with himself, stopped listening after the first few sentences. He was in complete denial: vampires? Come on, that was a child’s tale, a horror flick favorite, not a twisted reality. Why did he have to move to Jersey where the crazies lived? He wanted to go home and hang out with his mother and friends there. Not with freaks who tried to convince him their murder scene was for the cause of feeding a poor, hungry survivalist.

Mikey tried to go on, but Frank stopped him abruptly, pointing a harsh finger in his direction. “I’m calling the cops on you two motherfuckers as soon as I get home, so you better shut the hell up because anything you say can and will be used against you!” Isn’t that what kickass cops said or whatever? He felt pretty kickass. Perhaps he could have left out his plans of calling the cops, though. Oh well- at least he had that one kickass moment.

But Mikey didn’t point out any of that; he only said, “And say what? That there’s a malicious vampire on the loose, everyone watch out? Listen, jackass, no one ever falls for that story. It’s childish and petty compared to other threats the police receive.”

Frank was almost positive that the police had to come down if someone called, no matter how absurd the story was- it was a certain policy they had. But he was not about to make the same mistake of proclaiming that to the slaughterers. “How about this: there’s dozens of lifeless bodies in that pile yonder there? Does that work for you, Mikey Way?” He cringed at the use of the word “yonder” but kept a grave face to show that he was completely serious.

“Shut up or I’ll… I’ll feed you to him!” Mikey threatened, causing both of their eyes to go wide in surprise.

Gerard just shook his head though. “I would never drink from this here Frank,” he assured calmly. Aw. How romantic. “His blood smells funny. Too sour or something.” Oh. So he was just gross tasting. Fine. If Frank believed this whole vampire thing (which he didn’t!), but if he did, he’d feel mildly insulted that the terror of the night who drained the blood of its victims for its very source of energy found him unappetizing.

“I agree- it _is_ insulting,” Gerard voiced his _thoughts_ while nodding his head.  Ok… that wasn’t normal.  Wasn’t reading thoughts, like, the number seven indicator that you’ve got yourself a vampire?  “It is,” Gerard said aloud.  “But I can only get into your head if you allow me to.”

“This is so fucking weird!” Frank observed, refusing to look at Gerard now.  “And why would I intentionally allow you inside of my head?  Oh right- I wouldn’t!  This is just not… not natural!”

“I thought you said he was smart?” mumbled Gerard in Mikey’s direction.

“I… take that back,” Mikey retorted.

Frank shook his head in disbelief.  “What, so you two talk about me when I’m not there?  Tells secrets about me and shit?  Explain yourself.”  He thought for a brief second, then corrected himself, “No, wait.  Allow me to explain.  Taste of your own medicine with ‘reading thoughts’ and whatever bull you’re trying to sell.  You two are looking for your next body to slay, and who’s a better candidate than the unknowing neighbor next door?  You two are sick bastards.  It’s a shame my last moments of life will have to be in your uncouth presences.”  Of course, he didn’t plan on dying that night, but might as well lead them on.  At least, he’d seen enough movies to know that if you play dumb, the attacker gets dumb.

“You know,” Gerard said suddenly, “if you really were planning on playing dumb, you probably shouldn’t have thought that, or at least kept the thoughts away from me.”

Frank couldn’t believe it.  Gerard was bluffing; he had to be.  It was some trick of the mind, stating what was the most sensible thing one would be thinking.  He probably had hours upon hours of practice on unsuspecting people, guessing several wrong thoughts before eventually getting a right one and discovering a crazy pattern.  That had to be it- this whole vampire story couldn’t be true.  And besides- weren’t vampires supposed to sparkle or be vicious or something along those lines?

“You’re thinking of the stereotypical vampires that Hollywood and pop culture has created for us,” Gerard said- damn him!  “Don’t worry though; I did too before I became,” he gestures to all of himself, “ _this._ Sparkles? _Twilight_.  Vicious?  A number of books and movies, but a common example would be _Dracula_.  My personal favorite is Kurt Barlow, however.  I don’t know, that’s just me.”  His hazel eyes flutter up to meet Frank’s for a fleeting moment before bashfully lowering back to the ground, almost as if he was embarrassed.

“Stop doing that!” Frank yelled, regarding the thought reading.  “And no one ever denied the killing me part of what I said!  That’s a little unsettling.”

Mikey shook his head frantically.  “No, no, we’re not going to kill you, Frank.  Calm down!  Just… just promise you won’t say anything about Gerard or the bodies and we’ll let you go.”

Frank laughed with a trace of annoyance licking at its edge.  “Oh, ok,” he said mockingly, purposely making his voice low and dumb.  A perfect impression of Mikey’s, if one were to ask him.  “Sure, I am definitely _not_ going to go tell the entire freaking apartment complex all about you and your crazy little cult thing going down here in the second basement.  Nope.  Not me.  These luscious lips are sealed.”

“He’s lying,” he overheard Gerard whispering into Mikey’s ear.

“No shit, G,” Mikey shot back, a worried expression filling his features.  He looked over at Frank once again.  “Fine.  You’re not leaving, then.”  He crossed his arms determinedly.

“I have people who will notice me missing!” Frank assured, though he wasn’t quite as confident as he let out.  He quickly pushed that thought away so Gerard couldn’t miraculously repeat it.

“Good, you’re learning,” he heard come from Gerard softly.  He looked over at him and saw he was smiling.  As soon as their eyes met again, however, Gerard once again went back to his careful observation of the floorboards.  Because, geez, weren’t those fake hardwood floors so darn interesting?

“That’s creepy,” Frank mumbled to himself.  “My dad- he’ll call the cops at the first indication of me missing!  You have my word, he will.”

It suddenly occurred to Frank that instead of laying on— what was it, a cot?— he could be running like the wind out of this weird place.  It wouldn’t be too hard, he didn’t think, to outrun Mikey and his brother.  This was the one time his shortness could be used to his advantage- he was quick and nimble when he needed to be.  He readjusted his self, preparing for launch, when he saw a blur, and then Gerard was directly in front of him on the cot, staring right at him with the strangest, pedophiliciest expression he could imagine.

Up close, he noticed his eyes glowed hazel rather peculiarly; they were off-setting and inappropriately stunning considering the situation.  He forced himself to look away from the blood stained beauty before him and instead at his hands.  “Can you please get out of my face?” he asked as politely as he could.

“You can’t leave, Frank,” Gerard whispered desperately, ignoring his request.  His voice was so low and quiet that he was sure Mikey couldn’t hear.  “I know you’re a good guy- I can feel it.”

“What, so now you’re a feeling-reading vampire too?” Frank asked with a roll of his eyes.

Gerard faltered.  “Well… yeah.  That’s aside the point, though.  I have an odd and kind of embarrassing request.”

Frank waited for him to say what that odd, kind of embarrassing request was.  He waited and waited, but nothing came out of the freak’s mouth.  “Are you going to tell me what it is?” he eventually questioned suspiciously.  He once again brought his eyes up to Gerard’s, but seeing the golden radiance forced him to look away and blush madly.

_No, Frank.  You are not attracted to a murderous madman.  Nope, you’re not._

Gerard smiled after he thought that, which was extremely nerve-racking.  The anxiety was only intensified when his smile morphed into a grin, revealing those sharp fangs again.  Up close, he could see that they were perfectly white and gleaming.  He wondered stupidly if vampires believed in dental hygiene and whatnot.  Surely this kid brushed his teeth- he had to in order to get such pearly whites.

_What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?_

He cleared his mind and asked again, “What’s the request?  I am this close to springing,” he added, holding up his thumb and index finger to indicate just how close.

Gerard lifted a hand before Frank’s face and delicately placed a chilled finger just below Frank’s chin, in turn causing his entire body to tense.  He tried to jerk away but was stopped by Gerard’s other hand cupping his cheek very lightly yet firmly.  His hands were ice-cold, even in the cool air of the apartment room.  The impact sent shivers riding all the way down his spine, to the very tips of his toes, and he couldn’t help but allow his heart to flutter.  Whether that was in fear or excitement or confusion, Frank did not know.  But now he had no choice but to look at Gerard; every angle he turned his eyes at only brought him to a different part of Gerard’s face, and he’d be lying if he said that it was a bad sight, even with the blood spread across it.

“My request is a simple one,” Gerard murmured, his eyelids flickering lustfully.  And damn, did that set Frank on edge, for he had only just met the guy and he was already eye-sexing him up and God dammit, he was supposed to be _dead_ and all that.  It was just too weird.  Gerard continued, “It gets lonely being a secluded vampire—”

“Oh my gosh,” Frank interrupted.  “I am not a necrophiliac- No way in hell am I going to have sex with you.”  _Even though you’re hot._   He willed that thought away.

Gerard’s nostrils flailed slightly as he sniffed the air.  “By the smell of you, you haven’t fucked much of anyone in your life.”

Frank felt his cheeks flare red- since when had the murderer got to point things out like that?  That was totally uncalled for.  “What?  You can’t tell that by smelling me!”

Gerard again smiled his toothy grin.  “Like I was saying, my life is boring and the only two people I can talk to anymore are Mikey and my mom.  You can only imagine how retched that is.  I want a friend.”

Frank looked at Gerard in surprise.  “And you want _me_ to fulfill that roll?”

Shrugging, Gerard said nonchalantly, “Sure, why not?  Mikey likes you, you seem like my type, and you’re damned good looking.”

Stupid cheeks for being so sensitive and red, stupid head for feeling light and dizzy, stupid heart for leaping all elatedly.

Stupid mouth for saying, “Okay, fine.  We’ll… I’ll be your be friend.”


	3. Mum's the Word

That night at dinner, Frank couldn’t help but to shift in his seat uncomfortably.  The apartment complex still reeked of death, his dad was eating a juicy, revolting hamburger, and he was keeping the murder of several potentially innocent people to his self.  It all seemed very wrong, yet he vowed not to tell.

“What’s on your mind, Frank my man?” his dad asked through a mouth of flesh, mayonnaise dripping down his chin without his knowledge.

Frank kept himself from throwing up and replied, “This salad tastes like shit.”  It was true.  Really, the only non-meat food his father had in the kitchen was half-rotten fruit, granola bars, and slimy pieces of lettuce.

His father chuckled.  “I’ll go to the store after work tomorrow.  You need anything else?”

He was about to answer no, but then he thought of his crushed phone still in his pocket.  “Uh, I kinda broke my phone, so… could you maybe get me another one?”

“What do I look like I’m made of, money?” the older man growled angrily.

Frank reddened and rubbed his neck nervously.  “Right, uh...  Never mind I asked.”   _Asshole_ , he wanted to add, but didn’t.

His father stared him down for a few more awkward moments before bursting into hysteric laughs, his chest contracting and releasing so rapidly that Frank could’ve sworn he was some kind of machinery or robot.  “Son, you’re so naïve.  I love it!”  The man tried to control his self, but obviously couldn’t, so he managed to say, “Of course I’ll get you a new phone!” through his hilarity.

Famously rolling his eyes, Frank got up and decided for an early bedtime.  The day had been exhausting, both mentally and physically.  It seemed as if his energy was drained in the presence of Gerard the Supposed Vampire.  He honestly thought he could sleep forever in his warm bed.

But as soon as he had brushed his teeth and settled in said bed, he realized this wasn’t true; he couldn’t fall asleep to save his life.

His mind was too preoccupied with racing thoughts.  As much as he willed, he couldn’t get Gerard out of his head.  He felt so drawn to him that it was disturbing.  It was like Gerard was some strong magnet and Frank was a little scrap of metal, unable to pull away even if he wanted to.  He marveled at this, not sure if this was some kind of “vampire” power Gerard possessed or just his own self being attracted to Gerard.  Quite possibly, it was a warped combination of both.  If Gerard was anyone other than who he was, Frank would be after him like a wild banshee.  But Gerard was a dead guy, somehow conjured up to walk around and eat people and all that.

Frank quickly shut his brain up- it wouldn’t do any good to think about all of this.  Besides, what if Gerard could read his thoughts all the way from here?  Now _that_ was enough to send him to sleep.

 

***

 

The sun shone from the mini-loft window, bright lines of light searing through his skin.  His eyes fluttered up to the ceiling absentmindedly, studying the cracks and bumps there.  Finally forcing his legs out of bed, Frank stretched and yawned, not quite ready to start another day.  He dressed and was thinking of calling his mom before he remembered his broken phone.  Which brought back the memories of yesterday morning.  Which made him sprint to the bathroom as fast as he could and dry-heave into the toilet.

What had he been thinking?  He should’ve called the police as soon as he could.  There were _bodies_ on the ground, for Christ’s sake.  But then again, Gerard had been so convincing…

Eh.  It really wasn’t his problem anyway.

After rinsing out his mouth a good fifty times and then some, he quickly made himself a breakfast.  It nutritiously consisted of a granola bar, a mushy apple, and a can of warm Dr. Pepper.  It was flat, but it at least was a source of sugar and unhealthiness he could indulge guiltlessly in.

He was settled on the couch, about to flip through some channels on the TV, when there was a loud knock on his door.  Groaning, he set his pop down on the coffee table and pushed himself off of the couch gravely.  He was not in the mood for company this time of morning, and there was only one person he could think of that would be visiting him.  Well, two now.

Sure enough, Mikey’s smiling face could be seen through the peephole.  Frank opened the door, rolling his eyes, and motioned for Mikey to come in.

“You sure do roll those eyes of yours a lot,” Mikey observed, taking a sip of his Dr. Pepper.

“You sure do give me plentiful reasons to roll my eyes,” Frank shot back, snatching his pop out of the younger teen’s hands.  He finished the drink with one gulp and threw the can in the recycling bin.

“What are your plans for the day?” Mikey asked casually.

“Are you seriously gonna be all spontaneous and friendly after yesterday morning?” Frank said in disbelief, his eyes wide and incredulous.

Mikey flung himself down on the loveseat of the living room and grabbed the TV remote.  “Sure, why not?”  He flipped on the television and browsed the channels until he settled for some cheesy made-for-TV horror movie.

Frank was sleepy and not up for arguing, so he urged Mikey to scooch over and make room for him on the chair.  Once situated, he decided he might as well watch the movie, too, out of a lack of motivation to be productive.  It was terrible; the monster was some ghoul who attacked its victims with slimy hands that oozed toxic fumes or something lame-o like that.  In the end, the hero had destroyed the ghoul but “accidentally” (Frank knew it was on purpose- that attention whore) inhaled some of the fumes, miraculously turning her into the monster, thus repeating the cycle.  It was that bad, and Mikey wisely chose to change the channel before the second of the movie series aired.

“Why didn’t I change that within the first five minutes?” Mikey asked rhetorically, gazing abstractedly off into space.

“Mmm,” Frank responded, having nodded off in the middle of the film and now only partially awake.

“Let’s do something fun today,” Mikey proposed, still gawking at nothing.

“Mmm,” Frank groaned with displeasure.

“Frank!” whined Mikey, finally shaken out of his daze and nudging Frank’s shoulder.  “You can’t be lazy all day!”

“Mmm.”

“Get… UP!” Mikey screeched, managing to push Frank over the arm of the loveseat and on to the hard floor.

Frank landed with a solid _oomph!_ and wailed at the pounding of his head.  “Ouch.  You bitch.”  That reminded him of being knocked out yesterday.  He decided to ask about that before he forgot.

“Yesterday, why was I knocked out?  Was that Gerard’s doing?”

Mikey leaned over the armrest and rested his chin on it so he could look down at Frank’s body still sprawled awkwardly on the ground in a heap of limbs.  “Nope.  All on me.  Pretty impressive, right?”  He giggled a little, then continued, “I wanted to make sure G didn’t try and suck your bloody hand or whatever.  I can’t smell blood, so I wasn’t aware that you taste bad.”

Reminded of the insult regarding his blood, Frank changed the subject.  “You were wanting to do something today?”

Smiling, Mikey’s eyes lit up and he climbed over the armrest to meet Frank on the floor.  “Yes!” he squealed.  “Let’s go over to Ray’s!”

“I’d rather not,” Frank spoke honestly.  Ray was cool and all, but his older brother was hot and had caught him staring at him too many times to just be played as coincidental.  Frank couldn’t help his stalker tendencies- there were too many pretty people in the world to not stalk.

“Ok,” Mikey agreed with a nod of his head.  He looked up at the ceiling, caught in his own musing for a moment, before snapping his fingers and saying happily, “How about we go to the pool!”

Just the thought of going to a people-infested pool on a crowded summer day made Frank shudder.  Not even the promise of sexy male lifeguards could bring Frank to settle for the pool.

“No,” he said promptly.

Mikey groaned, irritation washing over him thickly.  “Fine.  What do you suggest, then?”

Frank pretended to ponder over this, but in truth he already knew exactly what he wanted to do.  He just searched for a way to say it without being obvious.  “Can’t we just… hang out at your place?”  He hoped desperately that Mikey wouldn’t read into the simple request and discover his real reason for wanting to go to the Way’s home.

No such luck.  Mikey eyed him skeptically.  “This doesn’t have to do with Gerard, does it?”

“N-no!” Frank stuttered, something he rarely did.  “I just am a little curious as to what your home’s like, that’s all.”  Lies.  All lies.  “It was dark when I was last there, like, really dark.”  The only thing Frank could think of with his sketchy, weird excuse was _what?_

Mikey saw through it, too.  He narrowed his eyes at Frank.  “You want to see Gerard.”  Frank’s cheeks turned rosy at the thought.  “You have a crush on my vampire brother.”

“Nuh-uh!” Frank denied frantically.  “I just feel… drawn to him or something!”

“Ah.  So he’s used his ways of manipulation on you.”

Frank crinkled his face.  “His ways of what?”

“Manipulation.  It means to—”

Frank interrupted, “I know what it means, smartass, I’m just confused.  He can manipulate people?”

Mikey nodded curtly.  “He uses his eyes to get what he wants.  Back when he was still allowed in public, it was to seduce people before sucking their blood.  For my mom and me, it’s to get his way with things.”

Frank shook his head in qualm.  “Is there anything he _can’t_ do?” he muttered.  Without waiting for an answer, he went on, “He said that he’s trapped in the apartment with you and your mom.  Why doesn’t he just make you guys let him out?”  It seemed so painfully obvious that Frank was a bit cynical of the whole ordeal.

Mikey walked over to the kitchen and grabbed another warm Dr. Pepper, popping the tab with his thumb and taking a long swig out of the can.  “Protection,” he simply stated after swallowing.

Puzzled, Frank asked, “Like… as in condoms?”

Giving him a look that read _you’re as dumb as a pile of rocks_ , Mikey tapped his glasses.  “They act as a certain little barrier.  Mom has her contact lenses.  It works out well in our favor until we go to sleep without our ‘protection’ and are at his mercy.”

“Well lucky me, I don’t wear any protective eye gear!” Frank said, a little bit of crazy flaking off his words.

“Perhaps that’s why you feel drawn to him,” Mikey suggested with a minute shrug, searching the kitchen cabinets for nonexistent food.

“This is so weird, man.  You gotta understand that this is so fucking weird.”

Mikey got a sad look all of a sudden, but he just as quickly brushed it away and instead replaced it with a bored expression.  “Of course I understand.  You think it isn’t weird for me, too?  My brother is something I didn’t even believe in until a year ago.  I don’t know what to…”

Mikey continued on, rambling about whatever for a while, but Frank was too distracted to listen.  Mikey was rummaging through every inch of their kitchen, and it was driving Frank insane.  Why would there be food under the sink?  “Dude!” he finally interrupted.  “We’re out of food.  Stop searching for it.”

Mikey looked perplexed, but he shut the microwave he was studying anyway and walked to the front door.  “You coming?” he asked.

“Where to?” Frank unthinkingly responded.

Mikey shot him the stupid rock look again and said, “To see Gerard, dumbass.”

“Oh.”  Frank couldn’t help but to smile.  “Yeah, I’m coming.”  And with that, he ran out the door and to the Way’s apartment.

 

***

 

Frank shifted uncomfortably on a stiff-as-boards couch in the living room, a little nervous now that he was actually in the Way’s household.  Apparently, Gerard was eating and would be out in a few minutes.  Frank was glad to see that the bodies and stench were taken care of, but he half-wanted to know where they had been put.  Curiosity killed the cat, though, so he refused to ask.

Mikey had turned on a lamp in the large living room of his apartment, but it only illuminated a small portion of the room.  “Why is your place so fucking dark?” Frank asked.  “Aren’t vampires only hurt by natural sunlight or whatever?”  He remembered vaguely what Gerard had said about stereotypical vampires versus real vampires, but he couldn’t recall him talking about being overly sensitive to lights.

“Yes,” Mikey responded simply.  Frank waited for more of an answer, but it never came.

Vexed by the usually blabbering Mikey’s sudden lack of words, Frank growled, “So why don’t you turn on some more lights?  Brighten this place up a bit?  I’m sure it’d attract more guests and prevent people from accidentally stabbing themselves.”  He eyed his own nasty war-scar on his hand.

“Gerard likes it dark,” he modestly replied, bouncing his shoulders in indifference.  “Especially since he can see in the dark.  But, to be honest, our rooms were just as gloomy before G died.  Guess we’re just dark-liking people.  I don’t know.”

And that wasn’t strange at all, nope, nothing weird about living in the pitch-black dark.

They were silent while waiting for Gerard, with only Mikey playing on his phone (it was a wonder how- Frank never got reception in the second basement) and Frank anxiously twitching his fingers around.  He hadn’t realized until this point that he had pushed his initial feelings of shock behind him regarding the vampire biz, and now he was just plain excited.  He wanted to know Gerard’s story, what it was like to be a blood-sucking demon, how he reacted to certain elements such as the typical garlic or holy water tricks.  And he was brazenly more than inquisitive of whether or not vampires could, to put it plainly, _get it on._

Not that he needed to know for himself.  No, of course not.  He was just curious, that’s all.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft patter.  Startled slightly, Frank turned towards the light noise and noticed Gerard ogling him almost hungrily while shifting back and forth.  Frank was unsure if it was a sexual ogling or a I’m-hungry-oh-look-a-free-meal ogling, but either way, he found himself linking his hands tightly in front of him and shuffling on his feet awkwardly.

In the blink of an eye, Gerard was in front of him, seemingly… purring.  Except in a non-cat way, rather a sexy-as-hell way.  Gerard smiled when he thought this.  Dammit.  Frank needed to get a wrangle on this whole reading-of-the-mind thing if he was going to pursue a friendship with the meddlesome vampire boy.

“Is there any way you can choose not to read my every thought like the little intruder you are?” Frank asked, his tone annoyed.

“Who are you calling little?” Gerard queried, looking somewhat insulted.  “You’re the one who needs a ladder to reach manhood.”

Frank couldn’t help but snicker; _that_ was one he hadn’t heard before.  “Just answer my question.”

“I don’t remember what you asked.”

“I said— oh, actually, me neither.”  Frank shrugged.  It couldn’t be that important if he couldn’t remember it, right?

The room settled in an eerie silence, one that sent sparks of anxiety riding through Frank’s veins feverishly.  He wasn’t all that sure of how to talk to Gerard now.

“You can talk to me however you want, Frankie,” Gerard purred, suddenly so close to Frank that he could feel his body’s bone-rattling chill.  Frank couldn’t even remember Gerard moving, and now he couldn’t bring himself to step away, as much as the smart side of him screamed to get away from the _blood sucking, murderous vampire!_  Frank’s dumb side was just too overpowering; he found himself leaning slightly into Gerard’s coldness, almost touching their chests together.

“Uh…” Mikey said awkwardly, clearing his throat.  Just as Gerard had started to bring his face closer to Frank’s, Mikey cheered loudly, “Who wants to watch a movie?”

Frank groaned when Gerard practically teleported away towards a TV set.  Sure, he didn’t know Gerard all that well, and what he did know about him was enough to drive any sane person far, far away, but the guy was so seductive and sexy that Frank couldn’t resist.  He had never *cough cough* been in a real relationship before, mostly due to his repelling tendencies to “stalk rather than talk,” as his mother had put it.  But with Gerard, who was so far showing mutual feelings towards him, he felt they could easily be something.  Omitting the small fact that he was a vampire.

He saw that Gerard had been smiling at him for a while, causing blood to rise to the base of his neck and spread up to his cheeks.  He looked away bashfully and scolded himself for wanting to fuck a dead guy.  Nothing was even remotely okay about that.

“What movie do you guys want to watch?” Mikey asked.

Watching a movie didn’t strike his interest one single bit, so Frank whined, “Dude, we just watched a movie.  Let’s do something else.”

Mikey glared at Frank through his glasses.  “Oh, so what do you suggest?  Eye-fucking my brother right in front of me?”

Frank ignored that snide comment; he’d eye-fuck Gerard wherever the hell he wanted.  He had no idea what he wanted to do, but God forbid he even let the slightest hint of that show to Mikey.  “Let’s go out!”

“Okay, I proposed doing just that like ten minutes ago, and you brusquely declined.  So now that you’ve convinced me to come here, you wanna go out.  Am I right so far?”

He was, so Frank nodded his head apathetically.

“I can’t go out,” Gerard said in his luring voice.  “It’s still light out.”

“Well even if it wasn’t, you’d still not be able to go out, G,” Mikey spoke with a tinge of regret.  At Gerard’s scowl, he added, “Might I remind you of the _last_ time mom and I let you leave on your own?  Hmm?”

Frank was mildly curious as to what happened, but he was also bored of hearing the bantering between the brothers.  Boredom got the best of him, so he interrupted by saying, “Quit being such a killjoy, Mikey.  Gerard, me and you are going out tonight despite your brother’s complaints.”

He knew how stupid of an idea that was, but nobody ever claimed Frank wasn’t stupid.  He may have aced almost every test he’s ever taken in school, but when it came to common sense… well, candidly, he had a grand total of none of that.  Sure, Gerard could be discovered, and sure, he might accidentally/not-so-accidentally butcher someone’s neck, but the latter was bound to happen anyway.  He’d just have to hope for not being discovered.  Gerard deserved some out-of-the-apartment time— hell, everyone did— and Frank wanted to get to know the vampire next door.  Nothing like bonding over a warm pile of bodies and a hot cup of human blood.  Frank prayed it wouldn’t come to that, but whatever happened happened.

Gerard squealed pleasurably in excitement and Frank thought it was hot.  Gerard then wriggled his eyebrows at him and Frank decided to _think_ this time, _Get the hell out of my head, little man._

“Ladder to reach manhood,” Gerard reminded with a sideways grin that had Frank tingling all over.  Specifically in his unmentionables; he begged to God that it didn’t show.  If only Gerard’s _smile_ had him hard, Frank couldn’t even imagine what other absurd, small things he could do to turn him on.  He was unsure that he was willing to find out.

Suddenly, Mikey seemed to snap into reality, for he said with a frantic voice, “No, Gerard is _not_ going out with _you_ of all people tonight!  You two are like, a recipe for a serious homicidal mishap.  Like, you guys wouldn’t even mean to go on a killing spree; it’d just happen by natural forces pushing you to do it!”

Frank, of course, wasn’t listening, and by the look on Gerard’s face, neither was he.  When Mikey was done with his pointless lecturing, Gerard spoke up.  “Listen, Mikes, I need to go out, find myself a good fuck,” he once again smiled at a blushing Frank, then continued, “get a fresh feed from a beating pulse, all that shit, you know?  It’s so impossibly _boring_ to have your prey taken to you.”

“I don’t care if you think you’re as bored as Frank in a theme park; you’re not leaving!”

It took Frank a second comprehend Mikey’s insult, but when he finally understood, he had to admit it was pretty good.  Both Mikey and Gerard had some nice short jokes up their sleeves.  But just to be the whiny-ass he was, he yelled, “Listen, Specky Four Eyes, you’re being that overprotective loser everyone hates.” Suddenly, though, a new approach hit him, and by the sudden spark lighting in Gerard’s brilliant eyes, he knew it would work perfectly.  “You know what, Mikey?  Forget it.  You’re as boring as fuck, but forget it.  Sorry, Gerard.  Apparently vampires like you must live a sheltered life.  I’m going home.”

Gerard pretended to pout, and it was kind of adorable, but Frank didn’t stay long enough to cherish its adorableness.  He stomped his way down the dark hall and quickly found himself in his own bedroom, smiling up at the ceiling and humming his favorite song.

When his father returned from work, he threw himself out of bed and nearly pounced on him when asking, “Can I borrow the car for tonight?”

His father furrowed his eyebrows and scratched his dreads.  “Do you even have a license?”

Frank rolled his eyes (go figure) and spoke, “Of course I do.  You know, my mom actually taught me things and took care of me while you were here growing that God-awful pedophiliac mustache of yours.”

Subconsciously, his father brought his bony fingers up to meet his pedostache, his eyes turning down in a grimace.  “The keys are in my man-purse.  Oh, and so is your new phone.  Mind giving your daddy some sugar before leaving?”  His hand stopped groping his stache and instead he held his arms out wide for his son.

Yeah, right.

Frank ignored the gesture and ran to his room to grab his wallet.  He gazed out his lone window, waiting for the sun to set and the moon to rise.  When it did, Frank knew it was his time.  He quickly grabbed the keys out of the man-purse, slid his SIM card into the back of the new phone (which turned out to be kind of bulky and outdated, but a working phone nonetheless), and sprinted all the way up the stairs to the parking lot.  He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Gerard already waiting there, adorned by a black hoodie that’s hood covered most of his face.  If Frank saw this figure on the streets in another world, he would doubtlessly keep a good distance between himself and Gerard.  Something in the back of his head told him he should keep an even greater distance between them now that he _did_ know him.  He got rid of that thought before Gerard could hear it.

Wordlessly, he unlocked the doors to the car and sat in the driver’s seat.  Gerard didn’t hesitate to copy and plant himself in the passenger’s seat.

“Damn,” he mumbled, looking around in disgust.  “You ever think to clean this thing?”

Frank remembered the Way’s floors being spotless and wondered if Gerard was a neat freak.

“Yes.  I am.  When you have nothing else to do all day, you consult to cleaning.”

Well.

“Where am I driving to?” Frank eventually questioned as he started the ignition.  He knew they had to make their escape soon, or at least before Mikey discovered that Gerard was missing.

“Oh, I know the perfect place.”  The creeping grin spread across Gerard’s face was enough to make Frank’s skin crawl and his stomach swirl.  He swallowed, hard, his mouth dry.

Still, he faked irritation and glowered.  “Where’s that?”

Frank could easily make out Gerard’s glinting, pointed teeth in a bleak lamppost light, revealed from the wide smile.  He knew he didn’t want to hear the answer, that Gerard was most likely going to take him to a dark alley and eat him, but one look in those magnificent eyes had him equally convinced that he totally didn’t mind.  Gerard could threaten to murder puppies and Frank would tangentially agree and disagree all at once.  It was just those damned eyes…

His musing was interrupted by Gerard’s mixed answer consisting of vagueness, nebulousness, and a pinch of mischievousness, accompanied by that still present smile and sparkling golden eyes.  “You’ll see.”

Frank had a feeling he was going to deeply regret opening Pandora’s Box sometime in the near future.  Yet he still followed Gerard’s directions to the unknown, driving on the road to ruin.

Gerard just had the prettiest eyes. **  
**


	4. New York Minute

Frank openly admitted he was scared out of his mind as he and Gerard descended a menacing concrete stairwell that lead to an abandoned subway station.  Dark, creepy stairwells only lead to haphazard places.  Frank’s mind screamed at him to push Gerard down the stairs and sprint back to the car, but for some reason his legs kept moving forward and he found himself leaning into Gerard’s cold body.  Gerard’s left hand just barely grazed his right thigh every time he moved, and damn that for chilling his spine and toes and _every_ body part on him.  Except for one, which, on the contrary, felt extremely hot.

 _No,_ he tried to think without revealing to Gerard.   _No more hard-ons from small touches or smiles or anything.  He’s dead.  Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead—_

“Stay close to me,” Gerard commanded suddenly, loosely hanging him arm around Frank’s shoulders.

Frank complied, practically melting into his touch, but not without first questioning.  “Why would I do that?”

Gerard’s reply was less comforting than Frank would’ve liked.  “There are a lot of hungry people out in the world, Frankie-boy.”  Apparently, Frank’s reaction was hysteric, for one glance had Gerard chuckling softly.  Frank just rolled his eyes, feeling strangely out of the loop even though there was only the two of them.

He could faintly hear the boom of a bass in the distance and see flashing lights reflecting off various shiny surfaces in the dark subway station.  Giggles sounded upsettingly nearby, so he pushed himself hard into Gerard’s side for good measure.

“Don’t be scared, Frank,” Gerard whispered seductively.

“That’s just quite possibly the least-comforting thing I can imagine for one to say,” came Frank’s stingy answer.

Gerard looked down at him and grinned wildly, showing off his pointed teeth perfectly.  “Someone’s a bit salty tonight, hmm?”

Frank halted dead in his tracks, turning out of Gerard’s grip and gaping at him in an odd fusion of disbelief and disgust.  “Gerard.  No.  Never say that word ever again.   _Salty._ ”  He shuddered at just the very thought.

Gerard shifted on his feet and looked to the ground.  If Frank didn’t know better, he’d say he was embarrassed.  Then again, Frank didn’t know better so he probably _was_ embarrassed.  Gerard mumbled, “I thought that was what everyone was saying these days.”  It was on the verge of being a statement, but a hint of uncertainty brought it in the mix of classifying as a question, too.

“No!” Frank cried out, a little too harshly, perhaps, judging by Gerard’s slight wince.  He searched for a way to better explain.  “Like… it’s a word teachers trying to be young and hip say, or those annoying popular kids, or the wannabe annoying popular kids, but people like you are too cool for it.”   _Dammit, Frank._

Gerard returned his smile.   _Dammit._ “I’m cool,” he simply stated, wrapping Frank under his arm again and continuing forward.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” was the best reply Frank could conjure up without further humiliating himself.

A loud crash sounded, followed by a horrifying blend of screams and laughter

“Gerard.”  He looked up at the other man, letting fear coat his face without shame.  “What the fuck?”

But then they approached a large neon sign, and all of Frank’s questions were answered and yet unanswered at the same time.

**CLUB BLOOD**

Frank didn’t even have to say anything; his thoughts were as clear as day and they both knew it.  “Just give it a chance,” Gerard tried, his voice rising in desperation.

“No,” Frank said, already turning on his heels.  “I am _not_ getting eaten tonight, and to be honest, I’m a little offended you’re taking me _here_ to be eaten.  At least do me the honor of sucking my blood yourself.”

“This isn’t what this is about, Frank!” Gerard claimed, grabbing Frank’s arm as he tried to walk away.  Frank attempted to yank out of the grip, but it was too strong.  “Frank.”  He forced his eyes up to meet Gerard’s.  “No one is going to suck your blood here.  They’re all too preoccupied with each other and better tasting blood.”  Frank groaned.  “My point is, your foul-smelling blood will be overpowered, so you won’t have to worry.  This is, like, the only place an undead guy like me can go to have fun.  Please, Frank?”

“Oh, what the fuck?” Frank said, throwing his arms up in the air and walking forward.  He knew that he was only convinced through Gerard’s mesmeric eyes but went along anyway.  “There better be some good jungle juice in there.”  In truth, he’d never had more than a sip of an alcoholic beverage in his life, but tonight felt like a good time to change that. You know, with bloodsucking, vicious demons surrounding him. That was always a good time to be intoxicated.

Gerard smiled knowingly and led him closer and closer to this so called “Club Blood.”  Frank had been through enough haunted houses to know that the name was completely derivative and the concept, frightening.  Still, he felt a small gush of excitement echo through his body, one that had him bouncing on his feet when they came to a stop in front of large, iron gates.

“What is life’s greatest illusion?” a low, smooth voice spoke from the shadows.

Gerard answered without hesitation, “ _Innocence, my brother._ ”

“Hail Sithis!” the voice cheered quietly.  The gates gently swung open and they made their way through.

“Really?” Frank uttered in disbelief while blindly walking in the dark.  He had to be guided by Gerard’s arm as to not walk into a wall or off the edge of the subway platform.  “Your vampire club password is a quote from _Skyrim?”_

“Yes,” he simply replied.  “ _Skyrim_ is bae.”  Frank decided against correcting his young-people verbiage again.  Gerard mumbled, “Here, we’re gonna walk down a few stairs right… _now._ Easy, there, short-shot.  A couple more… Okay, now we’re walking on the subway tracks.”  Frank tripped as he said that, but Gerard’s arm caught him before he could face-plant the tracks.

“Careful,” Frank warned clumsily through his shortened breaths.  “Those tracks are dangerous.”

Gerard laughed, and it sounded ten-times sexier in the dark.  Frank told his mind to shut up, but it wouldn’t listen.

They kept going until finally, they reached foggy, neon lights and blaring, punk dance music.  A small archway lead into a ginormous, flashing room with swaying bodies crowded everywhere on a dance floor and the smell of death thick.  Upon a huge stage stood a few grinding people— _vampires_ — that honestly needed to get a room, as well as a DJ clad in a black hood and skanky dudes swinging from hooker poles.  Hanging from the high ceilings were metal cages that held both male and female dancers that should probably put on more clothes to be considered decent (Frank couldn’t take his eyes off two of the male ones dancing perilously close until Gerard nudged him in the arm almost jealously).  Around the edges of the room were landings filled with yet more people.  The largest pier held a massive bar that surprisingly wasn’t jam-packed like every other inch of the place.

And then there was blood.  In shot glasses, on the dark, neon light-splotched walls, stained into people’s clothing; even the cages dripped blood onto the people below them.  A fountain in the middle of the room sprayed droplets of goopy, dark crimson onto the pale skin of those nearby.

It was oddly beautiful in Frank’s eyes.

He felt someone tugging on his hand and met Gerard’s eyes.  He was smiling as if he had read his thoughts… oh wait.  He had.  Frank stomped on his foot but allowed Gerard to lead him to the dance floor where demons swayed violently to the beat of the music.  Frank, being the vertically challenged teenager he was, easily got pushed around by the bodies nearby, but Gerard pulled him all the way to the stage.

“Come on!” he shouted over the music, pulling a timid Frank up, too.  Frank never really understood the concept of dancing in public- why would one _purposefully_ humiliate themselves with farcical dance moves that almost sunk down to the level of skills of an uncoordinated, awkward penguin?  But suddenly Gerard began moving next to Frank, who was frozen stiff and watching the pole-dancer behind Gerard.

“Frankie, dance with me, babe!” Gerard whined, swinging his hips in a way that would normally strike Frank as humorously terrible but just looked plain hot on Gerard.

“No!”

“We need to liquor you up,” mused Gerard aloud.  “Follow!”  He jumped off the stage and made his way to the bar, Frank closely trailing behind.

They passed by several drunken vampires lathering blood in their hands in the fountain.  More were sucking face in dark corners or chatting while sipping on red drinks.  Suddenly, blood was a not-so-pretty sight.

When they reached the bar, Gerard ordered a spiked blood-shot and a Red Headed Slut.  “No blood in the second one,” Gerard added when the bartender reached for a tin container.

The bartender eyed him skeptically.  “You sure?”

Gerard just laughed and spoke charismatically, “Of course!  This one,” he patted Frank’s shoulder, “is saving his appetite for the Virgin Blood Special.”  The bartender smiled knowingly and handed the shots to the two boys.

“That’s disgusting,” murmured Frank, watching Gerard take his bloody shot.  Gerard just wiped his mouth and waited for Frank to follow.

He tipped the glass up to his own mouth and allowed the strong, sweet liquid to burn its way down his throat.  It scorched the whole way down, but gave Frank a jolt of something he couldn’t identify yet wanted more of.  Coughing, he barked out, “Another!”

And thus began Frank’s rapid intake of alcohol.  It only took three more shots for the short teen to reach the state of being completely wasted, and by that time, he was more than ready to dance with whoever pushed themselves against him.  Luckily, it was Gerard who pulled him to his body and began moving in a smooth manner.  He grabbed Frank’s hips and tugged him even closer.  Frank giggled and wrapped his arms around Gerard’s neck and moved with him and the bodies around them.  Everything was oddly synchronized for a minute of perfection that went by too quickly.  The mood was flawlessly seamless before a loud buzzer boomed through the club.  Frank broke away from Gerard to cover his ears, but everyone around him screeched and jumped excitedly.

“My, oh my, aren’t you a dirty bunch?” a voice said from a loud speaker.  Frank looked around until he spotted a man with a microphone standing next to the DJ.  The vampires around him, Gerard included, screamed jauntily.  The voice continued, “Maybe you all need a… _shower!”_

Everyone erupted into cheers, and suddenly red was everywhere in Frank’s vision, even in his actual eyes.  He opened his mouth to speak, but it was instantly filled with a copper taste.  He struggled to spit it out, but more replaced it.  Trying to focus on finding Gerard, he squinted his eyes, but he could only make out rough outlines of bodies through the gooey, warm liquid pouring from the ceiling.

He pushed his way away from the dance floor and out of the metallic liquid until he made it to a now-deserted pier.  Looking back, all he could see was a wall of red splashing everywhere.   _Blood_.

Forget Gerard.  Forget Gerard and forget Club Blood and forget vampires; the only thing on Frank’s drunken mind was survival and a cold shower. With water. Not blood.

He sprinted to the archway exit, slipping on random splatters of blood. His soaked clothes and liquid-covered face slowed him down, but he willed his body to keep moving forward. Once he reached the tracks outside of the club, he was greeted by the deadly welcome of darkness. It didn’t matter that he could not see; his one goal was to make it in his car and drive to way out nowhere.

Hastily running meant clumsily running, and Frank’s feet getting tangled up. He twisted his way into a rift in the ancient tracks and plummeted into the metal of the tracks, busting his forehead harshly in the process. New blood mingled with old blood as well as pain, and all Frank could think was, _I better not get hepatitis from this._

Moaning, he tried to push his way back up, but kept slipping and tumbling back down. When he heard voices from a short distance, he tried a little bit more frantically to make it to his feet. The alcohol buzzing through his system probably didn’t help his case. The voices got louder, and he could tell it was two dudes with low, masculine voices and heavy footsteps.

“…hope they haven’t started the Showers yet,” one said.

“If they did, I’ll be pissed,” the other answered. “I ain’t licking it up off the floor.”

“I know, I—” The conversation ended abruptly, and Frank swallowed. Vampires had excellent night-sight. And nostrils. He was dead; it didn’t matter if his blood tasted like spinach, he was dead.

“Looky here, Vanessa,” the deeper of the two voices spoke. Oh. So one of them was a girl.

“Mmm, a midnight snack for the road,” Vanessa replied. She still sounded like a man.

Frank could feel rather than see them quickly appear by his side, scraping their fingertips on his skin and licking them clean. One brought their mouth up to his neck, and he knew he was done for. But rather than bite, they sucked the blood off the surface of his skin while the other vampire brought a long-nailed hand up to his bleeding head wound.

“Shhh…” Vanessa whispered when he began to whimper. “Mama will make it all better. Mama will send you to sleep. Shhh…”

Her words didn’t have the effect Gerard’s did on him, and he began to struggle against the lips on his neck.

“Careful, child, let’s make this a slow, enjoyable process,” the other vampire said.

“Who… you calling child?” Frank asked through gritted teeth, fighting back the hands now holding him down.

 _Gerard!_ he screamed in his head, hoping he would hear from wherever he was. _Gerard, fucking help!_ He felt like a Damsel in Distress type of figure, but it hardly mattered because he was drunk and scared and about to have the life sucked from him by a manly sounding girl and her friend.

“Your Gerard is not coming to save you,” Vanessa said. Oh. He forgot vampires could read minds. “Not all. Xander here can’t. Just us _special_ ones.”

“I’m special,” Xander said with a tinge of doubt.

One of the vampires brought their mouth down to his head injury and began licking, causing the open gash to sting. He screamed internally some more, _Gerard Fucking Way! If you’re not too preoccupied with blood and alcohol and hookers, I could really use some help right now!_

But it was no use. Gerard didn’t have supersonic hearing, and Frank was going to die in the hands of two bored vampires. Suddenly, Frank’s religious side appeared, and he began to pray the Rosary like he had so many times before in his Catholic school. What the hell, might as well go out in a Godly way. He groped in his pocket for the Rosary he always kept there while making the sign of the Cross. Bringing the Crucifix to his chest, he began the Apostle’s Creed in a weak, defeated voice. “I believe in God, the Father almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth. And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary…”

“Holy shit!” Xander spoke. “He’s fucking praying, with a… a _cross!”_

“…suffered under Pontius Pilate; was crucified, died, and was buried.”

It occurred to him that yeah, vampires were supposed to be afraid of all things holy, despite what Gerard had said about false stereotypes. He held the Rosary high above his head by the beads, and felt the pressure on his head and neck disappear. He spoke louder when saying, “The third day He rose again from the dead. He ascended into Heaven, and sits at the right hand of God, the Father almighty.”

“Knock him out!” Xander cried out.

Frank smiled into his words. “He shall come again to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic church, the communion of saints…”

“I can’t! He’s, like, radiating holy feelings and shit!”

“…the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. A-fucking-men.”

By this time, the two vampires could be heard scrambling to get away, running in the direction of the club. Frank smiled; never had he been so thankful for going to a bully-filled Catholic church in his life. He finally was able to make it to his feet, and though a bit nauseous and dizzy, he slowly made his way out of the subway, hugging the wall for support.

Yeah, he was badass.

Then more footsteps caught his attention, and he groaned. Hadn’t he had enough trouble and vampires and blood for the night?

But the yelled, “Frank?” caused him to immediately relax a bit, and he turned back towards the voice.

“Gerard!” he cried, trying to find him in the darkness.

Hands clamped down on his shoulders and he was shaken back and forth slightly. “What happened to your head? Are you okay?”

“No!” Frank admitted. “I’m not okay! Some of your vampire friends just tried to _eat_ me after I tripped and fell while frenziedly running from the fucking blood Shower!”

“So that’s why those two back there were acting all weird…” Gerard said under his breath. “Do you need a doctor?”

“I need a fucking explanation!” Frank roared, blindly pushing Gerard off him. “Why did you take me to a place that poured blood onto everyone?” _Where the fuck did that blood even come from?_ he wanted to add.

“I didn’t know.”

“Liar.”

“Fine. I did know but I didn’t think about it.”

“Li—”

“I’m not lying, Frank! I haven’t been there since the very beginning of my vampirism curse thing, since Mikey and Mom found out. They forced it out of my mind, out of my memory. All I remembered was that I had some good times here, I swear. Please believe me, Frank.”

Frank sighed and wished he wasn’t so damn attached to the vampire he hardly even knew. “Sure, whatever.”

Gerard could feel the forgiveness though, so he wrapped Frank into his arms tightly. Cold breath cooled his neck as he returned the hug, and while it was comforting, it was also a tad unsettling to know that if Gerard just lowered his head a thread more, he could bite into Frank’s neck and kill him. He reminded himself that he doesn’t taste good, but even that was not enough to completely tame his morbid thoughts of death.

“Hey, babe,” Gerard spoke into his neck. “Even if you had the blood of… something that has really good-tasting blood, I wouldn’t try to eat you.”

Frank let the words calm and sooth him; he pushed his body closer to Gerard. “Thanks, Gerard. For not ripping my throat open with your teeth.”

“What are friends for?” Gerard whispered. “Come on, though.” He pulled away from Frank. “Let’s get your drunk ass in a soapy shower so I can take you home. You know, before your creepy-ass dad calls the cops or something.”

“As if,” Frank said, rolling his eyes, but he allowed himself to be pulled away by Gerard.

They walked back to the car in silence, Gerard’s arm around Frank. Frank wanted to believe it was in a Protective Arm Because I Like This Kid way, but he had a feeling that if it meant anything at all, it was probably more under the Protective Arm Because This Here Kid is a Potential Fuck Buddy category. He tried his hardest to keep that thought away from Gerard, imaging a tall, concrete wall in his mind.

“Wow, you’re learning faster than Mikey ever did,” Gerard laughed as they began to ascend the staircase leading outside.

“Yeah, well,” Frank murmured, suddenly feeling tired and bilious, his buzz quickly wearing off. “Dude,” he exclaimed, looking Gerard up and down in the now present moonlight.

“Why are you checking me out with a look of horror in your eyes?” Gerard questioned skeptically.

“You look like a fucking butcher!”

Gerard eyed Frank back just as harshly. “I could say the same for you, short-shot.”

Frank looked down at his clothes and noticed that he seriously looked like he just took a bath in the blood of his enemies. Being the meat-hating, queasy, drunken child he was, he pivoted on his heels and retched up his last meal on the stairs to the abandoned subway.

“Dammit, Frankie, people have to use those stairs!”

“Vampires,” Frank corrected, really not feeling bad about it considering two tried to “send him to sleep” not ten minutes ago.

Before they got into the car, they found a working hose and washed the blood off of each other to the best of their abilities. Frank screamed like a small, mutilated animal when the first of the ice-cold water touched his skin, begging Gerard to turn it off. Gerard just laughed and turned up the pressure. Frank decided he hated vampires.

By the time they were rinsed enough to not be considered axe murderers, Frank was nearly passed out. His eyes slowly fluttered instead of blinked and he found himself leaning into Gerard for support. _Since when have_ you _needed a man to take care of you, Frank?_ one side of his mind asked him.

 _Since he decided to get drunk with a manipulative vampire with really nice eyes and a hella good ass_ , the other side answered for him.

“You check out my ass often?” he vaguely heard Gerard ask as he helped (read: shoved) him into the passenger’s seat of the car. But Frank was too drowsy to answer, and as soon as his head hit the soft cushioning of the headrest of the seat, he was in his own dreamland filled with rainbows and puppies and Gerard’s hot-as-fuck ass cheeks.


	5. The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

For the first time in his life, luck was on Frank’s side. No one was in the apartment lobby to question his and Gerard’s (who was supposed to be dead) soaking-wet appearance and his father was sound asleep when he slipped through the unlocked door. The ticking cat-themed clock above the kitchen sink told Frank it was well past bedtime. He reached for the fridge to grab a bottled water before bed when he saw the sticky-note addressed to him sticking to the door handle.

_Frank,_

_All by myself, don’t wanna be, all by myself… anymore…_

_Don’t you love your daddy? He gets lonely in this big apartment building without his favorite and (please God) only son. If you’re reading this, you’re not dead, which is good. I don’t have your phone number so I couldn’t call. Wake me up when you see this._

_Er… scratch that. I have to work tomorrow, so I’ll just check on you when I get up in the morning… What? I’m a good father!_

_Xoxo_

_Daddy-o_

Frank gagged at the note, crumbling it and stumbling to his bedroom. In his half drunk, half hung-over state, he didn’t think he could make it up to his bed, so he collapsed on the central rug and fell fast into slumber.

 

***

 

“Frank!”

“Mmm.”

“I made breakfast! Time to get up!”

“Mmm.”

“ _Now,_ sonny!”

Frank’s heavy eyes blinked open through the grime keeping them shut; his stomach instantly protested being a stomach and he shot up, making a run for the bathroom. Without bothering to shut the door, he opened the toilet lid and emptied his insides completely, the red of the previous night’s alcohol unpleasantly reappearing. He eventually ended up dry-heaving, and only stopped when he caught his father laughing at him out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” he asked sharply, giving him the evil eye.

His father paid no mind to Frank’s grumpiness. “You smell like alcohol.”

Frank’s heart sunk; if he was with his mother getting caught like this, he’d be grounded from _everything_ for at least a week.

But his father just laughed again and shook his head. “Young and learning, am I right?”

A flood of relief washed over him, but he would never let his father know that. “Can you not watch me while I puke, you perv?” he queried.

When his father reluctantly walked out while shutting the door behind him, Frank collapsed against the wall. Never again would he touch alcohol. Never. He turned on the showerhead and began the process of ripping off his still bloody and damp clothes. One look in the mirror showed that he looked like he came fresh from the deepest depths of hell. Eh. At least he still had semi-sexy hair (it was semi-sexy in his humble opinion, which his mother always said was the only one that mattered).

After a long, hot shower, he dressed in clean-ish clothes that he found on his bedroom floor and threw himself on the living room couch. Only to fall asleep almost instantly. Only to be shoved awake by his father.

“Wakey, wakey, my little Frankie,” he said in a sing-song voice, a smile creeping up on him and his pedo-stache.

“What?” Frank whined, shoving his face into a pillow.

“I took off work today for you, so get your ass off the couch!”

Frank had never heard his father truly get upset before, so it was sort of a shock. He gracelessly rolled off the couch and onto the hard floor of the ground with a thud, groaning but making his way to his feet unsteadily.

“Ha!” his father laughed. “I should be strict and mean-daddy more often!”

Frank groaned. “What do you want?”

“It’s class-registration today. Can you believe it? Your senior year will be starting in a week,” his father said with a gleam of excitement backing up his words. “Let’s go now!”

Frank, to be honest, hated his old school in California and dreaded any form of schooling in general. It was a Catholic school, and one would think that a religious school would translate to a loving school. Ha. Sure. _Loving._ If loving translated to getting pushed around and called names his entire high school career, then Frank went to the most loving school imaginable. Hell, he once even got trapped in a locker for the entire second period (cliché, right?). When he got caught admiring (read: stalking) other students in the boy’s locker room, he’d gotten the shit beat out of him by that retched Gabe Saporta. Funny, the Head Administrator made him go to counseling sessions every other day to “correct” his “curable confusion” regarding whether he should like dicks or vaginas, yet Gabe got off the hook without even a single detention session.

His mother was the best person in the world when that happened. She had called the school and pretty much told them to shut-the-fuck-up, in a more motherly vocabulary, of course. Hugging him while he sobbed one night after being called “Frankie the Faggot,” she had told him that it was awful that one person’s interpretation of the Scripture meant that he could be bullied so atrociously. That was the night she took him out to get his first piercing and a rainbow pin that read (no kidding), “I’m Gay! Fuck you.” It was awesome and made absolutely no sense but his mother had gotten it for him, a mother who scolded him even when he said words like “crap” or “suck.”

Frankie the Faggot eventually evolved into Fraggot, which turned to Frag. By his sophomore year of high school, most people looked down on him. His best friend Bob Bryar was no longer allowed to hang out with him (his gay might rub off on him), shitty school girls whose left legs never met their right would call _him_ the man whore, and his teachers would punish him for things he hadn’t even done.

And people wondered why he was such an asshole.

When he stepped out to the apartment hallway, he was met by Mikey.

“Mikeyway,” he greeted casually, bobbing his head.

“Frankenstein,” Mikey responded, weakly punching his arm. “Class registration?”

Frank’s exasperated groan was apparently enough of an answer. “I hate school.”

“I feel ya,” Mikey agreed with a nod. “Text me when you get your semester schedule. We’ll compare classes. Oh, and we need to have a talk about _last night_.” He shot Frank what was surely meant to be an ominous and daunting look, but in reality it just had Frank rolling his eyes.

“Fuck you,” he mumbled, following after his father who was already halfway down the hall.

When he caught up, his dad grabbed his forearm harshly and halted in his tracks, looking back to where him and Mikey had previously stood. Frank tried to jerk free, but he couldn’t. “What the fuck, man?” he cried out. “Let off!”

“We’ll speak in the car,” was the only reply he got as his father took off up the stairs as fast as his short legs would allow. Frank again rolled his eyes in disbelief and followed behind at a slower, more-casual pace.

In the passenger seat of his father’s car, he yawned dramatically and leaned his cheek-meat against the sticky window. “I don’t want to do this,” he grumbled, more to himself than his dad.

“Well I do!” his father cheered excitedly. It was too early for his enthusiasm, so Frank plugged in his earbuds he was smart enough to remember in his hung-over state. “Wait, Fra—” But Frank was already plugged in, blaring some _Misfits_ song and bobbing his head to the beat.

Thankfully, his dad seemed to take the hint, for he didn’t speak another word the entire way, as far as Frank’s concerned. It’s not like he’d be able to hear anyway.

It only took fifteen minutes to get from their apartment building to a building with a sign in the front that read, “Welcome to Cedar Creek High School!” Frank groaned; he’d prefer even a “Welcome to Prison” sign over this torture house. The parking lot was half-filled with cars of all sorts of colors, so they had to settle for a spot in the back. Great. That meant he’d have to endure a good five minute walk of awkward silences and physical exertion with his father.

He pushed himself out of the car and quickly raced ahead of his dad. He was sure his short legs could outrun his father’s equally short ones. Those dreads _had_ to weigh the man down. But Frank was disappointed to find that he was soon on his heels, crying out his name over and over again. Finally, to be a dick, Frank halted in his tracks and caused his dad to collide into his back.

“Frank!” he puffed out, smiling a grin that totally showed his please in winning the silent argument. “Finally I can talk to you.”

Frank waited. His father didn’t speak. “Well fucking spit it out- it’s hot out here.”

The older man shuffled on his feet for a moment before placing a hand on Frank’s back, prompting him forward. He noticeably hesitated for a bit longer before speaking out. “It’s about the Ways.”

Frank’s heart skipped a beat and he nearly tripped on the cracked asphalt below his feet. There was no way his dad knew anything about their situation… right? It was top secret- Mikey and Gerard said so themselves. Frank was an exception to the “nobody knows” fact. Suddenly, though, a thought hits Frank. What was it that Mikey said, way back when they first met? Something about Mrs. Way finding his dad to be good-looking (honestly, who found pleasure in staring at the Peter the Perv looking man?). Did that mean they had some sort of closer relationship, his father and Mrs. Way? It seemed plausible, considering the fact that Mrs. Way was kind of really creepy.

He decided he’d just have to find out by asking.

“What about them?” He tried not to let his interest show through his voice- no sense in gratifying his father even more.

By this time, they had reached the front doors to the cracked, crumbling school building. The line for registration was backed up all the way to the entryway, giving his dad time to explain himself. “I—” he began before cutting himself off, obviously nervous and at unease. “I just want you to use that brain of yours a little when it comes to them. Weird things have happened with them and—”

“Listen, dude,” Frank blurted out, already knowing the direction this conversation was heading toward. “Don’t bring up the whole ‘dead brother’s sketchy death’ crap; we all know it was weird, but that’s no reason to avoid Mikey.”

His dad spoke too eagerly when saying, “That’s the thing! This goes way back, before Gerald—”

“Gerard.”

“—even died. The Ways were just… odd. Peculiar. They didn’t come out much, and Gerald,” it wasn’t worth it to correct him again, “was always bringing home strange men at uncanny times of night. Mikey would never wave or so hi back, and Donna came on a little… _strong_ with her feelings at times. It wasn’t just that, though. I can hardly explain it, but they’ve been my neighbors for years. The whole building knew they were weird, but nobody knew it more than me.”

“Well aren’t you just a special little snowflake.”

“Frank, I know I can be a bit of a goof, but I’m serious right now. Please just take caution when you hang out with that Mikey kid. I noticed you talking to him comfortably earlier, and I don’t want you to get sucked up in his weirdness.”

Frank refrained from rolling his eyes, if only because he didn’t want to be that typical douche teenager defying his parent in public. It was almost humorous that his dad was oh-so concerned about his wellbeing when it came to the Ways, yet he wasn’t even aware they had been hanging out since the beginning of Frank’s arrival. But he didn’t say this out loud. Instead, he mumbled out a quick reply.

“What was that, Frankie-boy?” his father asked cheerfully, already back to his normal ludicrous self.

Frank spoke up so his dad could hear. “Fuck you.”

“Oh.” There was a long pause. “I’m positive that that’d be frowned upon by most of modern day society, son. Let’s not.”

This time, he couldn’t help but to roll his eyes, daring to let a small smile show on his lips. He didn’t really want his father to see it; that’d just be encouraging his stupidity, but he couldn’t really stop the smile even if he tried.

The rest of the morning was spent with scrambles to turn in shot records, receive a class schedule, and sitting in a McDonald’s drive-thru during the crowded lunchtime. Thoughts of Frank’s old job brought dreadful feelings of nostalgia that made him want to curl up in a ball under his mother’s blankets of comfort.

He was going to text Mikey, but decided to make a scene by going straight to his apartment room as soon as they arrived home. His father sent him a disapproving glance, but said nothing as his son knocked on the Way’s front door.

As soon as Frank and Mikey got settled on the rug in Mikey’s room, Gerard entered the room.

“Frank!” he said with a sexy smile.

“Out,” both he and Mikey responded simultaneously.

“Oh-kay,” Gerard said, turning on his heels with a _y’all are full of shit_ look on his face.

“Phew,” Mikey breathed. “Boy’s been driving me up the wall all day today. ‘Where’s Frankie, has Frank called, you should invite Frank over.’ It’s revolting and makes me _not_ want to let you in my home, in all honesty.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want to talk to him today, anyway,” Frank said, not speaking the entire truth. He hoped Mikey couldn’t see through the bluff. “He made me get all drunk and bloody. I assure you that’s not a pretty combination.”

Mikey’s eyes were the size of the moon as he said, “What the _hell_ did you two do last night? I told you it was a fucking bad idea to go out, you moron!”

Frank briefly retold the previous night, leaving out the part about grinding on his brother and praying the Rosary. He didn’t need to know that. In the end, all Mikey grumbled, with a smirk spread across his ugly face, was, “I told you so.”

“Yeah, you told me so. Congratu-fucking-lations, Mikey; want a medal for your achievement of being a know-it-all freak?”

Mikey looked offended, but Frank wasn’t fooled. “Lay off, man. You’re the one who got yourself into the mess- don’t take your anger out on an innocent man here.”

Frank sighed, “Whatever. Do you want to compare fucking schedules or not?”

The only classes the two had together were physics and calc, though they had the same teacher for history. A quick text conversation sent between Ray and Mikey revealed that Ray was in his ceramics class. Frank wasn’t as upset by the lack of classes together as Mikey; that just meant less people to distract him from his only drive to attend school every day: hot, dark haired boys. It was hard holding a conversation at the same time as admiring (not ogling) some dude from a distance.

“You should know that Gerard is currently standing outside of the door, listening to our talking and reading your every thought,” Mikey mumbled as he picked at a loose thread in his hole-filled jeans.

Frank’s head instantly snapped to the closed door in the dark room. _Blank wall, blank wall,_ he thought on repeat. “Don’t you mean ‘our’ every thoughts?”

“Nope. Just yours. You should probably leave now- it’s getting late.”

Frank yawned, but he wanted to ask more about anything to avoid his dad for a bit longer. It’s not that he completely despised his dad anymore; he just didn’t want to be forced into more conversation with him than necessary. He’d already had to spend half of his day talking to the man.

“It’s only eight. I can stay for a bit longer.”

“No, Frank, I think you misinterpreted what I was saying. ‘You should probably leave now’ translates to ‘I’m really tired and not in the mood for entertaining guests, so get out. Now.’”

“Right.” Frank pushed himself up from the floor and didn’t pass Mikey a second glance as he pushed open the door. Sure enough, Gerard was waiting for him, eyes sparkling in the dark hallway peculiarly. “What do you want?”

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice absent of its usual cocky haughtiness. Now it sounded just plain worried. It was sort of cute, but Frank _definitely_ made sure to keep that to himself.

“Is it that obvious?” he replied dryly. “Last night’s events put a damper on our relationship development a bit, don’t you think?”

“Frankie!” Gerard whined. “We had fun… for the most part. Don’t do this!”

Frank would have none of it. Truthfully, he was over it by now, but he wasn’t in the mood to play Gerard’s games today.

Damn him for thinking it so freely, for Gerard leered evilly, the conceit returning to his demeanor. “Okay, Frankie. I’ll see you around?”

Frank turned his head so he couldn’t see the blush rising in his cheeks. “Sure,” he mumbled, pushing past Gerard and hurrying to the front door. As he passed Gerard, he felt an icy hand purposefully brush his, and one look back showed Gerard’s erotic grin. Frank shook his head and rushed out the door as fast as he could.

Maybe his father was right- the Ways _were_ a weird family.

 

***

 

“Oh God- behind you, Daryl!”

Daryl wouldn’t listen though. He was too busy trying to get to his dying comrade, trying and failing. Just as he was about to jump the chain-link fence, a rotted hand reached around his torso and decaying teeth clamped down on his abs.

“NO!” Frank’s dad screamed at the same time as Daryl. “Motherfu— this is not happening! Oh God, Frank, kill me now!”

Frank rolled his eyes, never one for dramatic TV shows. “Dude, he’s a fictional charact—”

“How dare you accuse Daryl Dixon of being a fictional character, you twat!”

Surprise rolled over Frank’s face. Usually, when his father was upset, it turned out to be just a joke, but he seemed real right now. Over _The Walking Dead._ Right. “I’m going to read until you calm down.”

All his father whispered in response was, “I think that’s a good idea.”

He really didn’t have any new, good books to read, so he settled for rereading _‘Salem’s Lot,_ remembering how Gerard commented that his favorite vampire was Kurt Barlow. But after only reading two chapters, his father was calling for him, stating he was at a soother state now. Frank honestly didn’t want to leave the sanctuary of his room, but had nothing better to do, anyway.

“I want to get another piercing,” he told his dad while he made tea to “further calm his nerves.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Frank’s father stated. “Unless you want to get your scrotum pierced. I’d allow that.”

Frank scoffed. “Okay, sure. But I’ll have to avoid rough sex for the initial healing time, so…”

His father’s face went pale. “Stop.”

“And clean my sex toys before use.”

“Frank…”

“I’ll need you to buy me some actual lube, too. Heard you’re not supposed to use saliva for a while.”

They both end up laughing, Frank’s father more so than Frank. That night in bed, it hit Frank that this was the first time he’d laughed since moving into the apartments, other than while he was under the influence of alcohol with Gerard. It was also quite possibly the first time him and his father had shared any sort of connection. It was almost as if they had _bonded…_

A small smile on his face, he realized that bonding came from a conversation over ball piercings. How nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly a father/son comic relief bonding filler chapter (that’s a mouthful). Sorry it lacked a healthy amount of Gerard. Don’t worry- next chapter will compensate for the absence with perhaps some fluff and all that good stuff.


	6. Perish the Thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have u know it only took me half a year to update this o_O I have a million and one excuses as to why, but I'll spare u the rambling that u probs don't want to hear and just say this: this fic has not been abandoned, updates will now be waaaaaay more frequent (lol 6 months seriously wolfy?!?!??!?), and yeah that's about it.
> 
> OH and I'm not sure that anyone who has read this will remember what even happened, cuz I sure as hell didn't when I first began writing this chapter (oops), so u may want to do a quick once-over of the fic. Or u could always ask for a recap and I will gladly oblige! 
> 
> Edit: Sorry for the nonexistent updates. Fic isn't abandoned, it's just slowly but surely coming along!! ❤️

It was the day before school started that Frank got his ass handed to him.

He had just gotten off the phone from talking to his mother when suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Coming, I’m fucking coming!” Frank shouted at the pursuer, annoyed by the never-ending bang.

Opening the door, he saw none other than Mikey fucking Way.

“What do you want?” Frank mumbled, rubbing his eyes. It was too damn early to be looking at his ugly-ass face.

“I don’t want anything,” Mikey said casually, bouncing nonstop on the balls of his feet. He stopped Frank’s attempt at shutting the door with his shoe. “Hey, now. Friends don’t slam doors on other friends’ faces—”

“Exactly,” Frank confirmed, pushing the door shut again, only to be blocked by Mikey’s foot for the second time. In truth, Mikey was pretty much the only friend Frank had at this point—save for that freak, Gerard—but Frank needed some time for himself on this morning. He missed his mom and he was stressed out over the thought of starting a new school- he’d rather be left alone for the time being.

Mikey huffed out a long sigh. “Look, I get it. You’re worried about school tomorrow.” And now Frank was beginning to wonder if Gerard was the only mind-reader in the family. “I totally understand. But most people will leave you alone, probably. I mean, look at you.” Mikey gestured to all of Frank, earning a frown from the shorter boy. “You’re a tattooed midget emo with a knack at rolling your unsightly eyes and carrying around your apparently really foul tasting blood. No one will even notice you!”

Frank refrained from rolling his eyes, confirming the kid’s accusations, and spoke as softly as he could, “Are you done yet?”

Shaking his head, Mikey said, “I could go on, but I’ll stop. Okay, and I’ll leave you alone for the day, but I really didn’t come here to see you anyway. Gerard wanted me to invite you over.”

Frank ignored the light flutter in his gut and asked as disinterestedly as he could, “So why can’t he come invite me himself, if he wants to see me so bad?”

Shrugging, Mikey finally began to back away from the doorframe. “Don’t ask me, man. He just promised he’d play _Kingdom Hearts_ with me later if I came and asked you. Anyway, I’ll tell him you’ll be over in a bit.”

The boy began to walk back to his own apartment, but Frank wouldn’t allow it just yet. “Wait a goddamned moment. What makes you think I’m coming?”

And then came the most smart-ass smirk in the history of mankind, right from stupid Mikey Way, and Frank’s cheeks scorched red. “Oh, my naïve little Frankie,” he said in a light, airy voice. Suddenly it dropped several octaves and his sneer only widened. “You’ll come.”

Frank realized with slight horror and equal parts amusement that the son of a bitch was, unfortunately, right: Frank would certainly be coming.

And then he had to bang his head repeatedly on the doorframe as Mikey skipped off to his home until a young woman asked if he was alright, because fucking _innuendos._

Defeated, Frank scrambled back inside to grab the house key before letting himself inside the Way’s home, his body tingling in excitement way too much for his likings.

***

Donna Way didn’t even look back from washing the dishes when he entered the kitchen. “Gerard is in his room,” she spoke monotonously, scrubbing hard at some dish that had a crimson red substance spread across it. Looking closer in the dull twilight that was the Way’s apartment, Frank could see that all of the dishwater was a muddy red color, and ew, it took him all of two seconds to realize that it was blood.

Mrs. Way turned on her heels suddenly, dish and sponge still in hand, and gave Frank a strange look. “You’re not fucking him yet, are you?”

Frank’s eyes bulged nearly out of their sockets and he quickly, manically, shook his head in denial. _Yet? Freaking yet?_ What gave her the idea that they would be engaging in coitus or anything even near it? They hadn’t even kissed yet!

Yet. Freaking yet _._ Frank was going to kill himself.

“Uh, n-no, Mrs. Way,” he murmured, averting his eyes so they met anything but her face. He decided to focus in on her now empty hands, adjusting her belly shirt so that it revealed a little less of her slightly flabby stomach. Okay, and was that a mildly disgusting sight, but it was better than meeting her eyes, at least.

“Whatever,” she said in a bored tone before turning back to the dishes.

Frank didn’t allow time for any more awkward conversation to strike up; he quickly dashed through the door and into the hallway entrance.

It hit him that he had yet to see Gerard’s room, so he really had no idea where it was, but he figured Gerard would sense his presence anyway and seek him out himself. He wandered down the dark hallway with the wooden walls and the burgundy carpet, taking in the vastness of it. What appeared to be such a small apartment complex proved to have some great depth to it.

“Hey,” a voice sounded from directly behind Frank, followed by a heavy hand on his shoulder. Frank nearly pissed his pants before pivoting to face a smirking Gerard. Damn the Way brothers and their stupid grins.

“Don’t do that!” Frank scolded while swatting at the hand still firmly set on his shoulder. “That’s not fair.”

When all Gerard did was continue to grin at him, Frank frowned and shook his head. “You needed something?”

No response, but suddenly Gerard was even closer than before, and he didn’t stop moving forward. Frank had to back up to avoid direct chest-on-chest contact, hitting the wall with his back and feeling utterly trapped under Gerard’s gaze. And his body, for now they really were pressed together, Frank awkwardly sandwiched between Gerard and the hallway wall.

“G-Gerard?” Frank whispered. “I’d really appreciate it if you backed it up a little, maybe.”

Gerard continued to smile, but Frank could hardly see it anymore with most of the light now cut off and the proximity of their faces.

“Please?” Frank added, his voice no more than a tiny whimper.

The smirk was unbearable now, and Gerard spoke through it, loud and clear and somehow with sex laced into that single syllable: “No.”

And then their mouths were connected, and Frank couldn’t breathe. Gerard showed no mercy or gentleness, pushing hard against his lips while placing one hand on Frank’s hip and the other flat against the front of his shoulder. Frank wasn’t completely sure how first kisses were supposed to go, but he was almost positive that they weren’t meant to be this rough and dirty. That thought, however, quickly vanished as Gerard moved his hand from Frank’s hip to his stomach, sliding it up his shirt and gripping onto the skin directly below his ribcage. It was embarrassing as fuck, but Frank actually squeaked. _Squeaked_ , like a motherfucker.

He was screwed. He was so, so screwed.

“G-Gerard,” he gasped as the man—the _vampire,_ Frank reminded himself—moved his mouth to Frank’s neck. “I- oh my God… can you s-stop- _fuck!_ Please stop for a second,” he managed to get out.

Gerard did, but his mouth still lingered right below Frank’s earlobe. Frank wheezed, desperately trying to get some air into his lungs—stupid asthma—before adjusting himself so that he could look into Gerard’s glowing eyes. “What the fuck, dude?”

Of course the vampire didn’t look a single bit flustered, just smiling along as if nothing had happened. “I don’t care if you smell bad, Frankie, you taste so fucking _good_. _”_

Frank wanted to slap the motherfucker— the first real words spoken since creeping up behind him in the first place and _that’s_ what he says? “Oh, _hell_ no—”

But Frank was abruptly- and rudely, he might add- interrupted by lips clashing into his again. Frank didn’t even think this time, he just grabbed onto the back of Gerard’s scratchy jacket and pulled him closer. Gerard hummed into his mouth, kissing with more ferocity than before, quickly parting his lips and making a wet mess out of Frank’s mouth. Frank tried to keep up, but he was more invested in getting as much pleasure out of this as possible. He didn’t really give a flying fuck on whether or not Gerard had to do all the work; he just wanted _more._

Gerard’s cold hand continued to stroke and grip at Frank’s chest, pinching and rubbing enough to give Frank a strange surge of pleasure versus pain. Frank couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper as Gerard again moved to his neck, this time nipping at it and sucking at his pulse. A thought crossed his mind that he should at least be vaguely concerned about the possibility of Gerard biting into his neck and making a meal out of him, but quite honestly even that sounded kind of sexy at the moment.

“That’s so hot, Frankie,” Gerard mumbled against his jaw, his breath so icy and cool like the rest of him. It took Frank a moment to realize that hey, Gerard was reading his thoughts again, but that hardly even mattered at the moment.

“Why’dya stop,” he groaned, pushing hard up against Gerard in hopes of more.

Gerard laughed something low and luring, planting a small kiss on the corner of Frank’s mouth. “You wanted me to before.”

“Mmm, please don’t.”

“Mkay.” And they were one once again.

Frank lost track of time, the cliché not even striking his thoughts. At one point, he felt a thigh being pressed between his legs, and for the first time he actually cried out, loudly, but they didn’t stop. The sloppiness, the wet clash of their mouths, the friction— it was all perfect.

Perfect, that is, until the sound of a clearing throat sounded from Frank’s right. Frank groaned when Gerard pulled away, his body needing the closeness still. Sighing, he turned his head to see Mikey, looking off-put and kind of really horrified. Judging by the look on his face, Frank guessed he had been trying to get their attention for a while now.

“Fucking cock block,” he heard Gerard murmur from his side. Frank hummed in agreement.

Mikey began to shake his head, looking back and forth between the two boys in front of him, before blurting out, “Did you… how… wha— Are my eyes working right?” He removed his glasses, rubbing the lenses with the sleeve of his shirt. “You two are fucking maniacs, you know? Get a fucking room next time, sheesh.” And with that, he was gone, disappearing into his own bedroom.

Gerard tried to grab onto Frank again, but Frank totally wasn’t prepared for another session of… whatever _that_ was. He dodged and stumbled towards the hall door. “I have to go home and shower—”

“I’ll come with you.”

“—no fucking way, and I need to get ready for school tomorrow—”

“Can I please shower with you, Frankie?”

“No!” Frank refused to meet his eyes, for if he did he might just be convinced to let him. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell Mikey to text me when he’s ready for school, ‘kay?”

Frank was at the front door before he felt an icy hand grip his wrist. “Frankie,” Gerard mumbled from behind. When Frank turned to see what the bastard wanted, he was met with cool lips again, wet tongue running along his lips. It took every ounce of Frank, but he was able to push the boy away.

“Goodbye, Gerard,” he said, quickly making his way to the shower in his own apartment. As soon as the warm water hit him, he sighed in relief as he began to finally rub one out. He then proceeded to wash up and try to rid all the dirty thoughts of Gerard out of his mind. He still wasn’t sure how far Gerard could steal his thoughts from, but he didn’t want to chance anything.

As Frank picked out an outfit for his first day of school, though, he wasn’t able to keep Gerard off his mind. What the hell had even happened? Frank had just had his first kiss… with a vampire. He’d allowed the damn thing to go near his neck with the pointy dagger teeth in his mouth— what the hell was wrong with him? Quite possibly, Gerard had heard Frank thinking about kissing him, so that’s what had made him make a move. Frank really needed to learn to better watch his thoughts around the invader, but that was a challenge for a different time. Frank was so confused. Was this a one-time deal, or did Gerard expect more of this? Hell, it wasn’t Gerard’s place to decide if it continued- Frank had a say, too, surely.

That brought the thought- did Frank _want_ whatever just happened to continue?

 _No, we’ve been over this before_ , Frank told himself. _You can’t be this damn attracted to a murderous son of a bitch. Nope. It ain’t happening. Just go back to being a stalker that takes no action, Frank. It’s for the best._

Before Frank could question and doubt anymore, though, there was a loud, sing-song voice sounding from the kitchen.

“Fraaaaaaank! Your daddy’s home! And he brought KFC— and some vegan shit for his little fruit and veggie torturer.”

Frank rolled his eyes but was glad for the distraction. Right now, he just needed to focus on getting through his first day of school and planning a visit with his mother. Gerard and his confusing little games would have to wait.


End file.
